With What Life Remains
by Muffy Morrigan
Summary: After Sam is critically injured, Dean looks ahead to a life alone as he has to face decisions that might lead to a future without his brother. LimpSam, Protective Angsty Dean. NOT DEATH FIC. NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: During Bad Moon Rising I promised Phx a limpSam story. Here it is, I hope everyone who has asked for hurt Sam from me likes this one. I promise this one won't become hurtDean before the end. My wonderful, patient and insightful beta Abni is keeping an eye on me. And just another reminder—I don't write death fic!_

**With What Life Remains**

Chapter One

_Then, with what life remains, impaled, and left_

_To writhe at leisure round the bloody stake_

_--Joseph Addison_

The water in the bathroom was on full blast. Dean was leaning against the door humming AC/DC as loud as he could, ignoring the repeated blows on the door.

"Give me a minute, Sam," he said to the door.

"Come on Dean, Susanna will be here in forty-five minutes!" His brother said, continuing to pound on the door.

"What's that Sam? Couldn't quite hear you."

"Dean, come on," and Sam's voice finally took on the pleading tone Dean remembered from when they were kids. His brother's "please, please" voice used to get his way when all else failed. The fact that it was now drifting through the door meant Sam was really on edge about his plans for the evening.

Dean chuckled. _Nice to know you're actually looking forward to this, Sammy. Nice to see you going out again. _He smiled, turned off the tap and opened the door. As he suspected Sam had been leaning against it and almost fell onto the bathroom floor. Dean caught him and set him back on his feet with a grin. "Sorry, Sam, can't rush in there you know."

"Bite me, Dean," he said shoving past him and slamming the door in his face.

Dean flopped down on the bed and flipped the TV on, hoping to find something worth watching for awhile. _Nothing like a cheap motel room to give you really bad cable._ After ten minutes of flipping he finally found reruns of "The Simpsons". _You know if I had just left it on this channel I wouldn't have missed the first ten minutes. But, hey, I'm a hunter, always looking. _

They had gotten to town seven days before, checking into a local haunting that had ended up in four deaths. After some quick research Sam and Dean had ended up questioning people at the university. Chasing down lead after lead they had discovered that all four victims worked in the same building on campus. And one of those leads had led to Susanna, sister of one of the victims.

Dean had tried his charm to get her to talk with them about her sister, but it hadn't worked. _Then comes Sam, one look and she's spilling her guts, crying and asking him out to dinner. Still not sure how he managed it, but…It worked and it's good to see him going out, it's been too long._

They had finally managed to track down the source of the haunting, find the grave and salt and burn her into oblivion. And they had both escaped from the encounter essentially unscathed. Sam had a small cut on his hand and Dean a bruised knee. _But all in all not bad_. Since the ghost was gone, Sam couldn't come up with anymore excuses to avoid the date and had finally given in. _And he's tried to cancel how many times? Sorry Sammy, won't work. You are going out and you are enjoying yourself._

The bathroom door opened and steam billowed out into the room. Sam came out, hair still wet, wearing a blue shirt, holding a green one in his hand. "Dean? Which one do you think?" He said holding the green one up.

"Dude, are you worried about what to wear on your date? Need a hand with the make-up too?"

"Come on, Dean. She'll be here in a minute," Sam said, looking a little panicked. "Do you think I should just cancel? You might need some help finding our next hunt, maybe I should just stay." He reached for his cell phone on the bedside table.

Dean grabbed his phone and sat on it. "Nope, you're going out, Sam."

"I'm not sure I…" he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Too late, Sammy," Dean stood up, handed his brother his phone and went to the door. He sighed, "How exactly did it end up you are going out with the hot blonde?"

"Shut up," Sam whispered frantically from the other side of the room.

"Relax," Dean said pulling the door open. "Hi, he's almost ready," he said to the woman standing outside the door.

"Thanks," she said walking into the room. "Hi, Sam," she said with a shy smile. "You ready to go?"

"Uh, sure," he said looking at Dean like a deer caught in headlights, "yeah, let's go."

Dean laughed at him, "Don't be out too late kids, call if you're going to be out after 10."

"Yeah, thanks," Sam turned and gave him a look that should have killed him on the spot and slammed the door behind him.

Dean walked over and pulled the door open. "Night, Sammy, be careful! Be a good boy." He laughed when Sam also slammed the car door. He sat back down to watch TV for awhile longer. He was planning to go down to the pub after a bit, but it was still a little early. His phone started ringing halfway through "The Family Guy". "Sam, you're on a date, what are you doing?"

"Susanna heard about something that might interest us a couple of counties over, thought I should mention it before I forgot."

_Yeah, yeah Sam. Knock it off, time to have fun. _"Ok, Sam, I'll check it out. And Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Enjoy your date. Relax and have a good time, ok?"

"Sure, Dean." Sam said, Dean could hear the smile in his brother's voice.

Dean opened up the laptop and prowled through their usual sites looking for the next job. He found the information on the haunting and some interesting incidents that had arisen from it. _Wow, and a little graphic for an empty stomach. __I'm starving, I think my brain is starting to melt from lack of food. I can actually feel it oozing out my ears. I've had enough. How again is it that I am sitting here and Sam is out? Must be losing my touch. _He smiled. _I wonder how early Sam manages to come back? _

Dean wandered out of the room down the block to the pub where he had been spending most evenings. They had a decent selection of beer on tap, a couple of hot waitresses and a good dart board. He'd struck up something of a friendship over darts and was looking forward to a quiet evening. _Funny it's usually the other way around, me out, Sam at the bar doing whatever it is he does in bars. Oh well. _

"Hey," he said when he saw his dart buddy waiting at the bar.

"Hello, Dean," he said with a smile. Galen Nielsen was a professor of anthropology at the local college, and came to the bar to—as he put it—escape the evils of seminar students. He was fifty and Dean had taken an instant liking to him when he and Sam had interviewed him about the deaths. He worked in the haunted building and he had actually known most of the other victims. Later, on their second night in town, when the professor come into the pub, Dean had sought him out, hoping to get more information, and ended up playing darts and talking for several hours. "Ready for some cutthroat cricket?" Galen said

"Sure, let me get a beer." The bartender had gotten to know Dean fairly well over the last seven days and had the glass already on the bar. "Thanks," he picked it up and headed over towards the board.

"Where's the sidekick?" Galen said with a laugh.

"Out on a date," Dean said smiling. "First one in a while."

"The lovely Susanna?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"She's my TA, Dean. She tells me most things she thinks are important. She's been planning on snagging him for the last three days."

"Kids today," Dean said, picking up the darts. Galen laughed with him.

"How goes the research?"

"Oh, really well, I think I've pretty much wrapped it up, but we'll probably stick around for a few more days," he'd told Galen he was researching the oral history of modern hauntings as folklore within American rural society. _And how Sam got me to say that with a straight face I'll never know._

Galen was something of a shark at darts, but Dean squeaked by with a win now and then. They settled down and had dinner, the pub made great burgers and fantastic "bar chips" homemade potato chips. They played again, Dean had discovered that while Galen was a killer at cricket, his skills diminished somewhat at 301. They split a couple of pitchers through the night and Dean headed in relatively early.

He walked back to the motel at midnight. The room was dark. He quietly opened the door, he could see Sam's bed was still empty. _Good boy, Sammy. _Dean flopped down on the bed and flipped the TV on. One of the stations was running a sci fi marathon and he happily settled in to watch "Them." _Got to love giant ants. Always fun._ He dozed off halfway through "Kingdom of the Spider" a couple of hours later.

"Jinkies," Velma said to Fred as Dean opened his eyes. He looked around the room, Sam's bed was still empty, morning light was coming through the window and "Scooby Doo" was on the TV. _Sam's not back yet? Good for you! _He shifted off the bed. _More hot water for me. _

After showering he headed out in search of breakfast. The café down the street had good coffee and the morning waitress was a nice distraction. He smiled at her as he went in and sat himself down at the counter. She came over with the coffeepot ready.

"Good morning, where's your brother?" She said with a smile.

_Damn, another one? What's wrong with me? Something stuck in my teeth?_ "Not around this morning, but I'm here," he said giving her the full wattage guaranteed-to-make-them-wilt smile.

"Yeah, let me know when you're ready to order," she said walking away. Dean watched her go. _Must be the college town thing. That has to be it, they know Sam was Mr. College for awhile, Yeah, that has to be it. I hope. _ He was staring moodily into his coffee wondering if he were now suffering the fate of Homer Simpson who "used to rock every night and every day, then it was every other day and now I have less than half an hour a week in which to get funky," when Galen walked into the café and sat down across from him. "Morning Galen," he said looking up at the older man.

"Hello Dean, I was curious if you had heard from your brother?"

"No." _Hey, lay off, Sam's having a good time, let him._

"Not at all?" Galen sounded upset.

"No, he's out, I just assumed…Why?" Dean said the first jingle of an alarm starting in his head.

"Susanna was supposed to be in to grade some papers this morning and I haven't heard from her."

"Well maybe Sam distracted her," Dean said with a grin. _I'm not worried._

"Maybe, but she's so good about calling usually," he said.

"Well, maybe they are busy this morning." _Not worried, not worried at all._

"Yeah, you're probably right, it's just she's kind of like family and I worry," Galen said smiling a little.

"Nothing to worry about I'm sure. If something was wrong Sam would have called." _Still not worried. Nope. Not worried._

He and Galen ordered breakfast and sat talking for two hours. Galen seemed curious about Dean's "research" and Dean did his best to tell him about it without revealing the actual nature of what he did. They were both obsessively checking their phones by the end of the meal. Dean's was lying on the table and he was staring at it willing it to ring by the time he finished with his pear pie.

"I need to get back, when you hear from your brother call me," Galen said and wrote down his cell number on the napkin.

Dean folded it and shoved it in his pocket. "Sure, likewise." He smiled and headed back to the room, hoping to find Sam there. _He might not have called, might have just showered and gone to sleep. _When he opened the door the room was still empty, the bathroom open and dark. He was starting to get worried, a little knot of tension in the back of his neck, slowly tying itself tighter.

He tried sitting down and looking for another hunt, that lasted all of fifteen minutes. He decided to take the car to the carwash and detailed her, taking his time, enjoying the tactile contact with his baby. He drove back to the motel, still no Sam. He called his brother nineteen times, still no answer.

The sun was beginning to disappear behind rain clouds. The clouds running across the sky were coming up fast and Dean could see the rain on the horizon drifting down like a soft curtain. It was still fairly early, not yet noon. _And great, wash the car and it rains, never fails. Sam? Where the hell are you? I don't think you have ever been on a date this long. Come on Sammy, call. I'm not checking up on you, just starting to get a little worried._

He finally dropped down on the bed to watch the sci fi marathon that was still running. _How many bad films can they cram onto one channel?_ "Monster on Campus" was first. _And college professors turning into cavemen, always entertainment. Well at least we didn't have to deal with that here. Plain old ghost, although cavemen might be fun, break up the demon-ghost thing we usually deal with. And college professors mean co-eds, yep._

His phone was ringing, finally, he grabbed it. _Damn, speaking of college professors. _"Galen, hi."

"Dean, you heard from them?"

"I would have called," he snapped.

"Sorry, I know, I'm just worried. I haven't heard a thing, and Susanna's roommate called and wondered where she was," he sighed. "Well call when you hear something."

"Sure," Dean said as he hung up. _Ok, Sammy, time to call. _He tried to focus on the TV, it wasn't holding his attention anymore. He was starting to get worried. That odd feeling in the pit of his stomach that seemed to be reserved for his brother. _I'm overreacting. _The alarm bells were beginning to jingle a tiny bit.

He got off the bed and paced around the room. He tried Sam again. He walked to the door and looked out hoping to see Susanna's light blue car in the lot. He paced some more, called Sam, looked out the door, called Sam, looked at the TV, called Sam. _I might be getting worried. _The movie ended and another started. Still no Sam.

He was staring at the TV watching giant bunnies eating people alive when he realized his phone was ringing. _If that is Galen again I'll hunt him down and kill him. _He looked at the caller ID and relief washed over him in a great wave. "Sam, hey man, you must have gotten pretty lucky!" _See how casual I am Sammy? Not worried at all. Nope. You are a big boy now. _

"Dean?" Sam's voice sounded strained, Dean could hardly hear him.

"Sam? What is it?" The alarm bells were starting to get louder and louder. The knot of tension had twisted into actual pain.

"Dean…" His brother's voice was trailing off.

"Sam? Where are you?" Dean could hear the little note of panic creeping into his voice, the sound that was only there when he was worried about his brother. "Sammy?"

Sam coughed a little, "Dean … I think Susanna is dying. Can you help her?"

"Sam, where are you?"

"Dean…I…I don't know."

"Sam?" His brother didn't answer. "Sam? Sammy?" And the panic was there in his voice, full blown, frantic. He could feel it moving out of his lungs, out across his body, making his heart was pound. "SAM!"

He thought he heard his brother coughing then nothing, only silence.

**XXX**

"Night, Sammy, be careful! Be a good boy!" Dean called from the door. He was smiling and waving, Sam waved back, resisting the urge to flip his brother off. _Cute Dean, very cute. Not like I'm nervous enough about this, but you have to do that. Thanks._

"Your brother is funny," Susanna said smiling at him.

"He thinks so," Sam said smiling back, trying to relax.

"He cares about you, it's cute."

"Yeah, cute. I'll tell him that later," Sam said under his breath. He looked at her. "Where do you want to eat?"

"There's this great Italian place outside of town, do you like Italian?"

"Sure, sounds great," he said. _Sure, Italian, garlic bread and pasta, always good for a date._ Sam settled back in the car and watched the countryside roll by. The road ran along the edge of a mountain, a large cliff on one side and flowing off into a river valley below on the other. The view was spectacular. In the distance Sam could see squares of black, green and gold, fields of grain turning the land into a checkerboard. The trees reached up on the valley side of the road, some of them just the tops, brushing the edge of the steep road.

"No guard rail?" He said looking over at her.

"No, there never were many up here, and when there's an accident, it never gets replaced really, we are kind of far out of the city," she said with a laugh.

"There are a lot of accidents up here?" He asked

"Yeah, our county is dry on Sundays so a lot of kids head over here to the next town which is not dry. When they come back…" She smiled at him.

"That makes sense." Sam said with a snort. "A stretch of road known for accidents and no rail. Smart."

"I know they tried to fix the worse parts, but up at the top…oh well. Hey thinking about your brother's research? I was kind of wondering what you look for."

"Well, you know, unexplained deaths, or reports of strange sounds and lights." _And yes, I sound like a freak. Hey, first date and I'm already sounding like the utter freak I am._

"You know that's interesting. I heard about this cabin a couple of counties over that someone said they saw a Native American man walking around. They called me because I work in the anthro department, you know."

"Really?" He pulled out his phone and called his brother.

"Sam, you're on a date, what are you doing?"

"Susanna heard about something that might interest us a couple of counties over, thought I should mention it before I forgot." _And hello Dean, I'm not feeling at all awkward here, why didn't you let me cancel this?_

"Ok, Sam, I'll check it out. And Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Enjoy your date. Relax and have a good time, ok?" Dean said, Sam could hear the smile in his brother's voice.

"Sure, Dean."

He still wasn't quite sure how he ended up going out. He and Dean had interviewed Susanna and her professor about what was happening. Neither one had any real information for them. The next day he had been researching in the library when Susanna had come looking for him. She smiled and helped him find materials. Dean had taken one look at her and had left Sam alone with the attractive blonde with nothing more than a fairly lewd raise of the eyebrows. Before Sam really knew what was happening he heard himself accepting her invitation to dinner.

_And here I am. Going out. _He fidgeted a little in the seat, looking over at Susanna. She sensed his look and turned to him with a smile. _She is really good looking. Blue eyes, blonde hair, and how did Dean put it? A body that could kill in less than three seconds? _

They pulled up in front of the restaurant twenty minutes later. Sam held the door for her, he managed to order a bottle of wine without looking like an idiot and then sat looking at her, at something of a loss for words. He smiled and looked down, straightening the forks.

"I think it's really sweet how you help your brother with his research," she said putting her hand on his wrist. He looked up and she smiled at him. "It's a really interesting subject don't you think?"

"Sure," he said smiling at her. _I sound like an idiot. I can't even get out two syllable words right now. How does Dean do this all the time? Well he probably doesn't really talk all that much, just smiles that smile at them and they are naked or something. What do I say? Why am I the one here and not Dean? How did that work out?_

"You seem to know a lot about that kind of thing, too. You don't think…" Her eyes filled with tears all of a sudden.

"What is it?" He put his hand over hers, where it was resting against his wrist.

"Well you don't think that Lacey, because of the way she died, you don't think she won't be able to rest do you?"

_Funny how some people just accept things like spirits and some people deny them completely._ "I don't think so."

"Oh thank you!" She said laughing a little, her eyes still a little bright.

"Yeah, but let's not talk about it right now," he smiled at her and patted her hand. "Let's just enjoy dinner. We can always talk more about it later." _And did I just say that? Later? What am I doing?_

"Yeah," she giggled looking at him.

Dinner came and went, they sat talking. Dessert came, they sat talking. Sam had to admit to himself that coming out was not such a bad idea after all. The manager finally came and told them he had to close. When they finally left Susanna hooked her arm through his. He smiled down at her as she unlocked his car door. They sat talking in the car, listening to music for a long time. _Ok, Dean, you were right, this wasn't such a bad idea after all._

"You want to go walk by the lake?" She asked some time later.

"Uh, yeah, sure," he said. _I wonder if that's a euphemism. _

"Great," she pulled out of the parking lot and out onto the highway heading back up the hill towards town. Sam was fiddling with the radio when she let out a small huff of annoyance. He looked over at her, she had an odd look on her face.

"What is it?" He looked out the windshield but couldn't see anything.

"I don't know, the car feels wobbly or something."

_Wobbly is never good in a car, never. _"You think we should pull over and see what's wrong?" Sam said looking at the road ahead of them, looking for someplace they could pull off and check the car, but unless they stopped in the middle of the road there was no place to stop.

"There's an overlook around the bend, we can pull off there." She had both hands on the wheel, Sam could see her knuckles, white, as she gripped the steering wheel. Sam reached across the car and put a hand gently on her leg. She looked at him and smiled, then looked back at the road.

Suddenly there was a noise, a popping sound then an odd flopping. Susanna screamed. She was trying to regain control of the car. "Oh god!" He leaned over and tried to help with the wheel. They were trying to force the car back on the road, away from the precipice. Together they wrenched the steering wheel around.

It was a mistake.

The car flipped.

Sam was slammed against the window and saw the edge of the road come up fast, the car rolled again. They plunged off the road. Susanna was screaming as the car went over and over and down the long hill. The car slammed into something, a rock and then into something else. Sam thought he saw a tree right before the final impact.

The darkness was complete. It was cold. Wherever he was resting was a world of pain. He forced his eyes open. There was a tiny bit of light, it seemed to be coming from in front of him somewhere.

"Susanna?" He tried to reach over to her, his arm was held down by something. He tried to lift his head off the seat. Agony stabbed through him, he let his head drop back down and turned it a little to the left, trying to see Susanna. She was lying over the steering wheel, unmoving. "Susanna?" She still didn't move. He tried to look out the shattered windshield. All he could see was the small pool of light from the unbroken headlight.

_That should make it easier to find us. I need to get out of here. I need to get help for Susanna. _He struggled against the pressure on his chest, he couldn't move. His hand was resting against the door, he couldn't lift it up to open the handle. _What's wrong? Where are we? _Something was pressing against his chest, his head hurt. He coughed a little and darkness pulled him away.

There was light against his eyelids, he was getting very cold. He could hear something. _Is that my phone? I think I hear my phone. Dean? _ Sam opened his eyes. His phone was definitely ringing. He tried to get it out of his pocket, but couldn't get his arm to bend. Pain exploded up from his wrist and into his brain. The phone stopped. He relaxed, trying to get the arm to move, it still wouldn't. His phone started ringing again. _Dean? It must be Dean. _He shifted a little, pain ripped out of his side, he felt like he was stuck in the seat. He heard a small sound, a moan from beside him. _Susanna! _"Susanna?" He turned his head, she was still immobile, her eyes were open a little, looking at him.

"Sam?"

"Don't move," he said.

"Can't," there wasn't much strength in her voice. "Sorry." Her eyes were closing.

"No, Susanna!" His phone was ringing again he tried to turn, tried to get it out of his pocket, pain suddenly shot out of his chest, flowing across his body, paralyzing him, holding him breathless captive against the seat. The phone stopped.

She was still, her eyes were closed. "No, stay awake," he whispered. He tried to reach over to her again, his arm moved a fraction of an inch. _I have to help her. _He tried to move, something was holding him down against the seat. The pressure-pain of that was getting more and more extreme. He slid his hand across to where her hand was lying on the seat. She was cold. Her eyes opened at his touch, and she smiled a tiny bit. His phone was ringing again. It stopped and then started again, and again, and again. He tried to get his hand into his pocket. _Dean, I'm trying. _When he tried to shift the pain turned to agony and the pressure in his chest was almost overwhelming. He pulled his head off the seat and looked down.

_Shit._

Susanna was moaning a little again. "It's ok," Sam said, he heard a funny sound, a sucking noise, that time. He had no idea how long he'd been lying there since his phone had rung. He slid his hand back across the seat, inch by agonizing inch, it took forever. He finally got his hand to his jacket pocket and got his hand around the phone and pulled it out, it took forever. He pushed his thumb onto speed dial. _God I hope he can hear me._

"Sam, hey man, you must have gotten pretty lucky!" His brother's voice sounded a little forced. _He's been worried. And no Dean, not lucky._

"Dean?" He managed to force the sound out, the agony causing black spots to appear and dance in front of his eyes.

"Sam? What is it?" Dean said, Sam could hear his brother trying to stay calm.

"Dean…"

"Sam? Where are you? Sammy?"

Sam coughed a little, he could taste blood, "Dean … I think Susanna is dying. Can you help her?"

"Sam, where are you?"

"Dean…I…I don't know."

"Sam?" His brother's voice was now full of panic. Sam could hear it clearly. "Sammy? SAM!" Sam tried to answer and the effort caused him to start coughing, he could taste blood, it was warm on his chin, he could hardly breathe, the black spots flowed together.

_Dean, you might need to hurry._

_**To Be Continued**_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Just another gentle reminder I don't write death fic._**  
**

**With What Life Remains**

Chapter Two

_Thou seest thy dying brother_

_Stabb'd at his heart, and all besmear'd with blood_

_--Joseph Addison_

"SAM!" Dean shouted into the phone, he was answered by silence. "Sam, I'm coming, I'm coming," he said. He flipped the phone closed and called Galen. "Something's happened. I need to find them," he said without preamble when the professor answered the phone.

"What is it?" The older man said, concern coloring his voice.

"Sam called, something's wrong. Do you know where they were going?"

"To Luciano's just outside of town." Galen stopped in horror.

"Which way? How would they go?" Dean was out the door and at the Impala before Galen answered.

"Probably up the highway, it's faster than running along the valley," he said.

"I'm on my way, can you…"

"Yes, I'll call the police."

"Thanks," Dean said breaking the connection and starting the car. He called Sam's phone, no answer. He tried again, no answer. _Come on Sammy, come on._ He pushed the car, he could hear the engine purring at a higher tone than usual. It was starting to rain in earnest and the road was slick, oily black. _How long ago did this happen? How long has Sam been trying to call? _The car started climbing up the steep road, winding up the mountain. Dean could just see the top of the cliff soaring over the road.

The bottom of the hill was marked with four crosses, victims of the road. Dean slowed down, looking for skid marks anything that would help him locate his brother. _At fifteen miles an hour this is going to take a long time. _He drove slowly, keeping his eyes focused on the edge of the road. Nothing. No guard rails showing damage. _In fact no guard rails at all, which is just smart. _

As the car wound up the road he drove past cross after cross. Another small cluster of them beside the road. _College kids, alcohol and mountain roads, always a good mix, if you like bodies. _The road was beginning to level off. He had reached the top, there was a parking area on the side of the road, with a trail up to the overlook on top of the cliff. _Come on Sammy. Where the hell are you?_ There were nine crosses carved into the cliff face. _That's the most I've seen in one place. _He slowed the car, creeping at less than ten miles and hour. _"Dean!" _He thought he heard his brother. "Sam?" He drove the car another few feet and stopped. _Something tells me I need to stop here, I need to find Sam, but I need to stop here. _

He pulled the car off the road, into the pullout. There were no skid marks, nothing to mark the scene of an accident, but still that overwhelming urge to stop. _Maybe I just know I can see better from the overlook? _The tops of the trees touched the edge of the road. There was nothing moving, Dean could hear the buzz of insects and the call of a bird far below him by the river snaking through the valley. He looked over the edge, he couldn't see anything but trees. _Ok, up the hill, I can see better from up there. _He turned and crossed the highway. There was a steep path that led up to the top of the cliff, to the overlook. He headed up the hill.

There was a 360 view of the countryside from the overlook. _Hell on a clear day I could probably see Denmark from here. _He looked over the edge, down where the road wrapped around the side of the mountain. Just down from the apex of the road he could see. _Oh, no. _ Skid marks, the remains of a tire and a terrible scar in the landscape, witnessing the violent passage of something plunging off the road. _SAM! NO!_

He turned and ran down the hill. His phone was ringing, he pulled it out, his heart started racing. "Sam?"

"Dean?" He was coughing. "Susanna…"

"Sam, it's ok, I think I've found you, Sam, I'm coming!" _I'll find you Sam, you know that, I will, I promise._

"Susanna's dead."

_Oh my god, Sam. How bad is it? SAM! _"Sam, how are you?" Dean said, calm, trying to still the voice screaming in his head. _I have to get to him, I have to find him. Calm down, you can't do him any good in a blind panic!_

"I…not good…you need to…fast, Dean," his brother said.

"I'm coming Sam, just hang on." _Panicking a little Sam, trying to stay calm for you, but starting to panic._

"My chest…she…Dean…" Sam trailed off with a moan of pain.

"Sam? You with me? Sam?" _Sammy? What's going on? SAM! Ok, panicked. Completely panicked. _The line was silent. "Sam, I'll stay on, you just wait for me. You hear me?"

He raced down to the car, got in and started the engine. _Faster to run. _He got out of the car and started running around the large bend in the road. He could hear sirens now, coming up from town, the plaintive sound bouncing around the valley.

"Sam, I'm still here, I'm coming," he said into the phone. He listened, he thought he could hear something. _Oh god, don't let that noise be Sam. _ He was looking off to the side, down into the black valley below.He was staring down the long gash in the hillside. _Oh god, that doesn't look good. _He thought he saw the tiniest flash of light blue at the bottom of the hill. _Oh, no._

He plunged off the edge, heading down the hill towards that small patch of blue, he tripped and tumbled, ending up against a large rock. He groaned a little. _I hope Sam didn't hear that. _"I'm coming, Sam," he said into the phone again.

**XXX**

Sam opened his eyes. The pain was now extreme. The odd pressure in his chest was accompanied by a funny sucking noise. He looked over at Susanna. Her eyes were open, looking at him.

"Susanna? It's ok, Dean is coming," forcing the words out, it was taking more and more to get the sound out.

"S'k, Sam," she smiled a little. Sam slid his hand across the seat and put it over hers. "Thanks." She said softly. "Sorry."

"No, hang on, Dean's coming," he said desperately. _She's dying oh, god, she's dying, I can't help her. Dean hurry, please hurry, I don't know what to do. I can't do anything._

"Couldn't stop the car, sorry."

"It's ok, hang on." _She's dying, she's dying._

"Thanks for holding my hand," she said, her eyes were starting to glass over. "You're sweet." She smiled again and Sam watched the light go out, watched as she let go and slid away from him. Her last breath sighing out of her into the cold.

_No, no. No, don't be dead. No. Please don't be dead. _He could feel tears in his eyes. _No, not again. Don't be dead._ He sobbed a little, it was agony. The pressure in his chest combined with the ache that had started when he watched the life slip from her eyes. Off in the distance, away from his world of unending pain, of misery and grief he thought he heard a familiar and comforting sound. The soft rumble of the Impala. _Dean! Dean thank god! Dean! Is that you? _It sounded like the car had stopped moving. _Dean? _ He slid his hand away from Susanna's already cooling body. Reaching for the phone where it lay on the seat, he bumped it, it scooted nearly out of reach, he finally got it so he could dial.

"Sam?" Dean's voice, frantic.

"Dean?" It was hard to talk loud enough to carry to the phone, he was coughing again, the blood congealed on his chin, fresh blood welling over. "Susanna…" _Dean, she's dead, I couldn't stop it._

"Sam, it's ok, I think I've found you, Sam, I'm coming!" His brother said.

_I know you will, Dean, but I don't think you are going to make it in time. That sucking noise can't be good. _"Susanna's dead."

There was a small pause on the line, then Dean spoke again. It was his "everything is ok, Sammy, there's no monster in the closet" voice. "Sam, how are you?"

_I'm pretty sure I'm going to die soon, Dean. _ "I…not good…you need to…fast, Dean."

"I'm coming Sam, just hang on," his brother's voice still sounded calm, or at least would have to anyone but Sam. He could hear panic there, fear.

_Dean, I'm not in good shape, you need to get to me. I couldn't save her. Dean, I want to say goodbye. _He tried to get all out that out. "My chest…she…Dean…" The effort of speaking was finally too much. He could still hear his brother through the phone, but he couldn't muster the strength to speak.

"Sam? You with me? Sam?" Dean said. _Sorry, Dean. I can't answer you. It's nice to hear your voice, though. Makes it easier, you know? _ "Sam, I'll stay on, you just wait for me. You hear me?"

Sam thought he could hear sirens in the distance. _Dean? Are you up there? _"Sam, I'm still here, I'm coming." Dean's voice came through the phone.

"I'm coming Sam," his brother said again. _I'm glad you're there Dean. _His eyes had closed. _It's nice to know you're there. _He heard something that made him worry. _Dean? Are you ok? Dean?_

"Sam, I'm still here, I'm coming," Dean's voice, shaky, but there, on the other end of the phone. _Hurry Dean, I want to….I'll try and wait, but hurry._

**XXX**

Dean had pulled himself up and was leaning against the rock when he heard the sirens getting close. _I need to get to Sam. I have to let them know where I think he is._ He looked down the hill, then back up at the road. _I have to let them know. _He started up the hill, making it to the blacktop just as EMTs tore around the corner. He waved them down, frantically shouting until they stopped.

"I think they're down there, my brother's hurt, I think," he said, hearing the panic in his voice. He was trying to keep his voice level, trying to not let them hear the screaming fear for his brother.

"Thank you, we'll handle it from here, son," one of them said to him.

"But it's my brother's down there," Dean said, panicked, trying to stay focused on getting help to him. _Sam, I'm coming. _"I have to go, I have to," he said. He pulled away from the hand on his arm and plunged back over the edge of the road, down the steep hill, down where he had seen that flash of a light blue car. He tripped again on the way down. _Take it easy, you can't get to him if you kill yourself on the way down._

He kept going, forcing his way through the undergrowth when that looked like a faster way down the hill. _And nice, rose bushes. This place just keeps getting better. _The wild rose caught in his jacket as he pushed his way through them. _I might be panicking and not thinking as clearly as I should. _"Sam, I'm coming!" He said into the phone, there was no sound on the other end, nothing at all. He looked down at the phone, the connection had been broken. _Sam, I'm coming, hold on._

He pushed through a small thicket and on the other side found what he had been looking for so frantically. There was a smashed tree and a rock with blue paint on it. "THIS WAY!" he shouted up the hill, hoping they would hear him and followed the path of the car down.

It was resting against a huge tree. _Oh god, oh god, no, Sammy. _Dean ran around the car to the passenger seat. He pulled the door open. "Sam?" _Oh god. Oh no, no, no._

"Dean? What took you so long?" The voice was forced out of his brother, pink froth bubbled against Sam's lips.

"Sorry, Sam," he said quietly. Tears had started running down his cheeks. He couldn't turn his eyes away from his brother, from the large piece of metal that had come out of the engine compartment, through the dashboard and had pinned Sam to the seat. There was blood seeping around where the bar was shoved into his brother's chest. Dean could hear a sucking sound as his brother tried to breathe. _Oh, god. _"Hold still Sam, they are on their way."

"Susanna?"

"Sammy…"

"Check, please."

Dean moved reluctantly away from his brother to the other side of the car. He pulled the door open and put his hand against her. She was cold, stiffening. "I'm sorry, she's dead, Sammy."

"Me, too," his brother said, the words just an exhalation of breath.

"No, Sam." Dean walked back to his brother and knelt down beside the car. "They're coming, Sam, you'll be fine."

"Goodbye, Dean."

"No, Sam, it's going to be ok," he had his hand on his brother's arm. _Sam, hang on, they're almost here._

"No, I'm sorry" Sam's eyes were starting to close.

"Sam, come on they are almost here, just hang on for a minute more." _Sam, you can't leave me. Please Sam, stay for me._

"I can't…sorry…Bye."

"SAM!" _No, Sammy, no. Please come back. _Dean could hear the rescuers getting closer, he could feel his brother's eyes on him. "Sam, hang on. Hang on!" He could hear the air, a sucking noise, as his brother drew a straining breath. There was an odd flopping noise, too. _Not good, not good, oh god, Sam, not like this._

The EMTs were there, pulling Dean away so they could get to Sam. "Be careful," Dean said as he watched, helpless, as they tried to free his impaled brother. "Please, be careful." He stood, watching, listening as they spoke to each other. They pulled Susanna's body out and put in on the ground. _Oh, god, Sammy, she was so beautiful. I'm so sorry I didn't get here in time to save her. Oh, please let me have gotten here in time to save you. Please let me not have been too late._

The man who had spoken to him earlier walked over. "We need to get that out of him."

"Yes?" _Uh, no shit. You think? _He looked at Dean with the calm compassion that he had seen a thousand times in his life. "Oh, god, he's dead if you do, dead if you don't, isn't he?" _Oh god, it's pulling it out that causes more damage, the sword going in might kill you, pulling it out does kill you. But this can't be like that, can it? Please say no, please say he'll be ok. Please._

"Pretty much."

_Oh, Sam, I'm sorry, what do I do? Oh god. _"Do it."

"I'm so sorry, son."

_Oh, god Sammy, no. NO! I'm so sorry. _A soft sound escaped from Dean, his brother would have recognized it as a sob. _No._

_**To Be Continued**_


	3. Chapter 3

**With What Life Remains**

Chapter 3

_The common accidents of life, but here_

_Such an unlook'd-for storm of ills falls on me,_

_It beats down all my strength. I cannot bear it._

_We must not part_.

_-__Joseph Addison_

It was raining, the soft rain that seemed wetter somehow, that soaked through clothing and chilled the bones. The sky was gray, casting a gentle light over the hill side, brushing the landscape with muted colors. The country was alive with bird song and the movement of small animals busy in the undergrowth.

The countryside was also filled with the sounds of sirens, the voices of rescuers and the harsh noise of metal on metal as the EMTs cut away part of the car to free Sam.

Dean couldn't look away. He stood and watched as they pulled the metal spike from his brother. He watched as they pulled Sam out and put him on the ground. He watched as they tried to block the hole in his brother's chest. He watched as they shoved the tube into Sam so he could breathe. He couldn't turn away.

Someone was talking to him. The timber of the voice finally reached him. He turned to the man who was speaking. "What did you say?"

The man smiled at him, gentle compassion. "I said do you want to ride with him?"

"Yeah," Dean took a deep breath, he had to ask, he couldn't get the words to form, but he had to ask. "Is he alive?" _Please, please, please._

"Right now he is," the man said, the words abrupt sounding in light of the compassion on his face.

Dean followed him as they walked up the long hill. He could see the stretcher being slowly pulled up the hill, he winced every time it hit a rock or lurched a little bit. _Be careful, please be careful. _When they reached the top Dean climbed in the ambulance beside Sam. He looked down at his brother, they had pulled a blanket over him, hiding the terrible wound in his chest. _Oh, Sam. I'm sorry. _

The ambulance pulled away, the siren's blare somewhat muted in the back. The vehicle bounced down the road, back towards town. Dean saw the Impala parked in the pull out for the overlook. _Maybe I can have it towed to town, or Galen might pick it up for me. I'm not leaving Sam._

The ambulance stopped, the doors opened and Sam was rushed away. Dean stepped out and stood, looking at the doors to the emergency room, watching people go in and out, not really processing anything else. He finally snapped back to reality when the EMTs closed the ambulance doors behind him.

He pulled out his wallet and rifled through his cards for something that might work. He finally settled on one and walked in to start the paperwork for his brother. He stumbled over the forms more than once, looking up, checking to see if someone had come to talk with him, then turning again to the paperwork. It took nearly twenty minutes he was so distracted. When he was finished he walked to the waiting room. He was on his third cup of coffee, _Well more coffee-flavored sludge, _when he finally got the courage to open his phone. He took a deep breath and dialed Galen's number.

"Dean?" Galen's voice was shaking.

"Galen, about Susanna…"

"I know, Dean, the police called me. Your brother?"

Dean tried to keep his voice steady, it wasn't working well. "I don't know. He was alive when we got here, I haven't…" He couldn't go on.

"Where are you?"

"Sacred Heart, I think is what they said."

"Ok," Galen took a deep trembling breath, "thank you for calling Dean."

"Sure," he broke the connection and was staring at the phone, then he shoved the phone in his pocket. _Oh, god_, _I'm waiting for Sam to call._

"Mr. Young?"

"Yes?" Dean stood, somehow he always felt more in control when he was standing.

"Your brother's lung has collapsed, we have sent him up to surgery. He's going to need a chest tube and he will be on a respirator," the doctor said.

"Will he be ok?"

"It took a long time for rescue to get to him."

"What does that mean?"

"We're not sure at this point."

"Not sure? Not sure if he'll recover all the way?" _Let that be it, please don't let him say…_

"Not sure if he'll live, I'm sorry. We'll let you know when he's out of surgery," the doctor smiled gently at him and walked away.

Dean watched him go, staring as he disappeared around the corner. _"Your brother's lung has collapsed." _There was an odd ache in his chest. _"Surgery, respirator."_ He swallowed hard. _"Not sure if he'll live." _He started walking away from the waiting room down the corridor looking for someplace quiet, someplace where no one would find him.

"_Dean, dad wants me to hunt with him…"_

Dean opened a door. _Never fails these places are always empty._ He walked into the chapel and slid down in the corner of the room. The ache in his chest had moved up to his throat. He put his head in his hands. He couldn't stop the images in his head, Sam pinned in the car, Sam with the tube in his throat, Sam pale, injured. Sam saying goodbye. _Oh god, no, not now, not now. _He drew a trembling breath as other memories clawed their way to the surface.

"_Go with dad, Sammy…"_

"_I'm worried about you Dean, I don't want you hunting alone."_

"_You and dad will be out there, too."_

Dean took a deep breath trying to stop the flood of emotions, trying to stop the memories of that hunt, of what had happened after that hunt.

"_Sammy dying is not an option dad, never." _

"_Dean, he's already dead."_

"_No dad, not an option."_

He ground his teeth together. _No, no, not now, I can't handle this now. _He slammed his head against this wall.

_No, not now, no._

**Thy father's anguish, and thy brother's death**

**Past**

"Dean, dad wants me to hunt with him, not you," Sam said, angry. At fifteen he and their father disagreed more often than not.

"Just go with dad, Sammy," Dean said, smiling at his brother.

"I'm worried about you, I don't want you hunting alone."

_Good excuse, Sam, but I don't buy it, you just don't want to hunt with dad. _"You and dad will be out there, too."

"I know, Dean, it's just…" He looked at him with the imploring look that he reserved for getting his way. It worked most of the time.

"It'll be ok, Sammy," he said, standing and slapping his brother on the back with a grin. "Let's hit the sack so we can get started early." Dean laughed at the sour look on Sam's face.

"Yeah, sure Dean, ok." And his lanky brother stalked off to bed.

The sun was just rising over the desert when they headed out the next morning. The heat was already writhing above the landscape, distorting objects in the distance. Joshua trees thrust their spiky arms out over the desert floor and cacti cast odd shadows in the light of the morning sun. A roadrunner ran across the dirt road the Impala was rolling over. The dust from their father's truck blurring the view out of the front of the car.

"This will be fun for a change," Dean said trying to pull his brother out if his black mood.

"Fun?"

"Yeah, it's sunny, daylight, nice for a change," he said, smiling over at Sam.

"Yeah, Dean, fun. So much more fun than school, so much more fun than having a normal life."

"Let's not start that now, Sammy, ok, let's just enjoy the hunt and get some dinner."

"Dean? I don't enjoy hunting, ok? I don't want to hunt with dad."

"Fine," Dean snapped, tired of this particular conversation. "Whatever."

Dean followed the truck as it wound up into the desert mountains. Bare, naked rock soaring above the rough track they were on, a gash in the side of the hill created by wind and water. They finally stopped and grabbed their gear. John had decided that they should carry guns for emergencies but each carried a bow with points dipped in a combination of sacred herbs, salt and earth to deal with the problem, whatever it was. They walked out towards the cave they had heard about, out to stop whatever creature was killing hikers in the wilderness area.

Once at Big Horn Cave, Sam and their father ranged up one path, running north-south along an arroyo, Dean headed up, along the cliff. They had planned this out the day before. _Which is when Sammy started complaining. Not wanting to hunt with dad, not wanting to hunt. I get tired of that sometimes. _

He spotted something up ahead of him and walked over to investigate. Symbols, drawn on the rock with charcoal. _Great, someone summoned something, just freaking great. Like there isn't enough bad in the world people have to summon more?_

"Dean?" His brother's voice drifted over the rim of the canyon.

"Yeah?"

"You ok?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah."

Dean smiled. Sam always had to check, always needed to make sure Dean was ok. No matter what the hunt, no matter where they were, if they weren't within sight, Sam had to check. _Of course, if he didn't check first, I'd be the one. _He laughed at himself, and went back to the path, running along the edge of the cliff.

He thought he heard something, rocks clattering down the cliff face. He turned and looked up, nothing. He went on, he could hear his father and brother talking quietly down in the small valley. He smiled. _Well, maybe they'll get along a little better now. What's that? _He looked up in time to see the creature barreling towards him. He swung his gun up and the shot rang out over the desert. It was still coming, it hit him hard and they tumbled over the edge.

"Dean!" He heard his brother yell as he struggled with the creature, part-bear part-man, growling, swiping at him. "Dean!" Sam broke through the tamerisk heading toward where Dean was grappling with the creature.

"Sammy! Stay back!" Dean yelled, desperate to keep his brother away, to keep him safe. The bear thing turned towards Sam. Dean grabbed on to it, holding it around the neck. He saw one of the paws swing at his brother, Sam turned, but the edge of the claws caught him on his back. "Sam!"

"I'm ok, Dean," his brother came towards them again. "Hang on," he was pulling an arrow out of the quiver on his back and notching it in the bow. His shot caught the creature in the upper arm. It screamed in rage and headed towards Sam again.

"No!" Dean yelled, following it across the dry streambed towards his brother. It was nearly on top of Sam when Dean heard his father's yell, he saw John as his father came tearing through the undergrowth, the mesquite thorns catching his clothing.

His father had the bow up and was ready to shoot. "Drop!" John yelled, Dean hit the ground, his father fired, right at the square of the creature's back. Dean watched the arrow's flight, he saw it approaching the creature, saw the creature suddenly move, grabbing Sam and throwing him into the path of the missile. Before the creature was even gone, before his father could get another arrow into the bow, Dean was moving. He caught Sam before he hit the ground.

"Sammy!" He looked down, the arrow was sticking out of his brother's chest. _Oh god, oh god. _

"Dean? My chest kind of hurts," Sam said, struggling to sit up.

"Stay still, Sammy, don't move."

Their father dropped down beside Dean. "It's gone, up the valley. Don't pull that out," he said his voice calm, the drill sergeant very much present right then, Dean thought. "We need to get your brother out of here."

"I'm ok," Sam said trying to pull himself up again. "I can walk."

"The hell you are," Dean said. "Sammy you have to hold still." He was trying to stay calm, it wasn't working very well. _When will I have dad's calm? How can I cultivate that? All I want to do is hold him and cry. No, I have to get him out of here._

He and his father picked Sam up between them, pulling his arms over their shoulders and carried him out of the valley, back to the Impala. They laid him down carefully on the seat. Dean ran around and started the engine.

"I'll meet you at the hospital, Dean," John said.

"Right," he gunned the engine and went as fast down the steep desert road as he possibly could. Sam's head was resting against his shoulder. "Sam stay with me, ok?"

"I feel funny, Dean."

"Yeah, you have an arrow sticking out of you, that's really funny, kiddo."

"No, that's not it. My back where the bear got me, it feels weird. I remember reading something? That text I was researching last night—remember? With the power of the great predator, the wiliness of man and the poison of the serpent, I think that might be what's going on."

"No, Sammy, you're just going into shock." He risked taking a hand off the wheel and putting it around his brother. "It'll be ok."

"I don't think so, tell dad I'm sorry I screwed up, ok?"

"Sammy, hang on, ok?"

"Goodbye, Dean." His brother suddenly relaxed against him.

"Sammy!" He shook his brother, trying to get him to wake up, then stopped as he looked down at the arrow protruding from his brother.

Years later he still would not be able to recall that drive, he would only remember listening to his brother's breathing becoming more and more labored, the odd sound that accompanied each breath. He pulled up in front of the emergency room and yelled out the window for help. He watched as they pulled Sam gently out of the car and rushed him into the hospital. Dean followed. He would remember the lights glaring down on him and the sudden change of temperature from the oven heat outside to the cool of the air conditioned waiting room.

"Dean, how's your brother? Have you heard anything?" His father said from beside him. Dean turned and looked at John, his father's face was calm, controlled.

"No, dad, nothing yet."

He stood beside Dean watching the doors, each lost to the other, each apart from the other.

**Thy brother languishes to death, and fades away**

**Present**

"Dean?" A gentle voice said from beside him. "How's your brother?"

Dean looked up, Galen was standing beside him, looking down, his face streaked by tears. "In surgery, that's all I know." He said forcing himself back up the wall. "They said his lung collapsed and…" Dean swallowed. The ache in his throat was threatening to become more than an ache and spill out in a flood of emotion.

"I'm so sorry, I got here as soon as I could."

"You didn't have to," Dean said, unsure how to react. His world was not usually full of people who went out of their way for others. _Well, we are good at that whole big picture saving the world from evil thing, it's the every day caring and sharing we suck at._

"Of course I did," the older man said gently.

"Uh, thank you," he said, still uncertain.

Galen smiled at him through the tears still running down his face. "I have to identify Susanna. She doesn't have any family left."

"Let me walk down there with you," Dean said. _He came looking for me before he went to identify her, it's the least I can do. _Dean walked with Galen through the hospital, down to the morgue. He stood beside the older man as they pulled back the shroud from Susanna's face. The professor confirmed her identity and walked out of the room. Dean found him still in the hall, leaning against the wall. "I'm sorry."

"I…she was like a daughter to me, Dean. We got close these last two years. She was so vibrant, so lovely, I just wish she was still here, you know?" He was unashamed of the tears on his face as he looked at Dean. Galen looked at him, his eyes searching Dean's face. "Let's go up and see if there is any word on Sam." He gently took Dean's arm and led him towards the elevator.

Dean was staring at the elevator doors and realized that they had been open for several seconds before that registered. He followed Galen out, back to the waiting room. He started in drinking the sludge again. It was starting to make him sick. Someone came and made a fresh pot. _And still sludge, I wonder what brand they use? Duncan Hills Sludge? The finest coffee mixed with the finest soil from the hills of Columbia?_ Galen sat with him, silent, solid. Waiting patiently, not needing to talk, not asking anything, just sitting, quiet, offering support.

Someone was coming. Dean saw a doctor walking towards him, he threw the coffee cup in the trash can and walked towards the man in scrubs. "Doctor? My brother?"

"We are taking him up to ICU, you can see him in about half an hour," the doctor paused, the look of quiet compassion in his face.

"And?"

"We almost lost him twice on the table," the doctor said.

Dean felt Galen come and stand beside him. A hand on his shoulder. "And?" _Would you please just tell me?_

"It doesn't look good at this point. I think Dr. Anderson told you rescue had taken a long time to get to him. There was a fair amount of damage. And there is something going on, he is not responding as he should. The surgery..."

"What are you saying?" Dean heard his voice, it probably sounded calm to the doctor, to Galen, but he could hear hysteria there.

"Your brother is dying. We can do everything we can to make him comfortable, but you should prepare yourself for the worst."

"What did you say?"

"We're sorry, someone will come get you when you can see him."

Dean watched him go, he felt Galen's hand on his shoulder but none of it made sense at that moment, he hadn't heard anything after the word dying. It all stopped at that instant, there was nothing. Just that phrase repeated over and over, getting louder and louder, beating against that ache in his chest.

"Your brother is dying."

_**To Be Continued**_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I don't write death fic! I would like to thank heather03nmg for patient answers to crazed requests for medical information. All mistakes and flights of fancy are mine, however! And of course many, many thanks to my magnificent beta Abni. And let me repeat. I don't write death fic._

**With What Life Remains**

Chapter Four

_My troubled heart_

_Is so cast down, and sunk amidst its sorrows,_

_It throbs with fear, and aches at every sound._

_-Joseph Addison_

The hallway was empty at that moment, the usual bustle of the hospital moving away from this spot, from this place where one man's grief was palpable, a pool of emotion, seemingly contained, but reaching out, touching the walls with the whisper of tears he couldn't yet shed.

"What did he say?" Dean said to the corridor. He was still standing there, staring after the doctor. He had no idea how much time had passed. It could have been a minute, it could have been a week, none of it mattered.

"He said they would come and get you when you can go see Sam," Galen said gently. The older man was standing beside Dean. "Let's go get a cup of decent coffee, I know where the café is."

"No, I need to wait till they come get me," Dean said looking at him, a little angry.

"Dean I understand, but I'll let them know where you are, they will come there to get you," he said pulling Dean down the hallway. Dean followed Galen blindly, he waited as the professor stopped by the information desk and let them know where they would be, he walked behind Galen as he bought them both coffees and he sank mechanically down into the chair at the small plastic table.

"I should have found him sooner," Dean said to the coffee.

"Dean, if it hadn't been for you they might still be looking," Galen said.

"I should have known something was wrong," he said, still talking to the coffee.

"It's easy, isn't it?"

Dean finally looked up, "What?"

"Blaming ourselves, thinking we could have stopped that somehow. I felt the same way when Lacey, Susanna's sister, died. That I should have been able to do something to stop it, but really, what could I have done?"

_I should have known there was something wrong, I should have started looking last night, I should have found him faster, I should have…_

"Dean, stop." Galen said grabbing his arm.

"What?"

"Stop. You couldn't have prevented that, you found them and that saved his life. There was a wreck down there several years ago and they didn't find her for days. Days, Dean. If they had found her sooner she would still be alive."

Dean looked up at the older man, Galen's eyes were bright with tears. Understanding dawned. "Your wife?"

"Yes, and she might still be alive today if they had found her. Take comfort in the fact your brother is still alive."

"The doctor said…" Dean looked away, trying to swallow the emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

"Where there's life there's hope, Dean." He said gently, squeezing Dean's arm before letting it go.

Dean looked back down at his coffee. _I don't know about that, not a lot of hope in my life lately. _Looking up he watched the people come and go, in and out of the café, some, hospital employees, smiling, other's with their faces stained by tears, grief so much a part of them he could feel it where he sat. Some ate, some got coffee, most sat and stared out the window or down at the table. All caught in moments of pain, in circumstances beyond their control.

He saw a nun walk serenely into the café. She was wearing a long veil and habit, seeming a little out of place in the modern plastic and steel room. Her face was smooth, gentle, a smile apparent even when her face was at rest. She saw Dean and walked over towards his table. She stopped beside him, looking down at him where he sat.

"Dean?" she said, her voice bright, full of youthful energy.

"Yes?"

"I'm Sister Anne, I've come to take you to your brother's room," she said. Dean stood, towering over her tiny frame. He followed her through the hospital. _I wonder how she does that? It looks like she's floating, not walking, I wonder if that's a class they take in nun school?_ They went up the elevator and down another corridor. Dean noticed another door marked "chapel" as they went down the hallway. They finally stopped outside a room with a large window facing into the corridor. Dean looked into the room.

"Sam," he said softly, so softly he wasn't sure if he had actually said it out loud. He stood at the door, wanting to go in, terrified of standing there beside Sam. He knew Galen was standing behind him, he could sense the presence of the nurses at their station and he could hear the beeping of myriad machines up and down the corridor. He couldn't move. It was as if his life had stopped, his ability to force his body into movement completely torn away.

Sister Anne was looking at him, her gentle almost-smile still on her face. He realized that she was older than her voice had led him to believe. There were years of experiences, ages of happiness and grief etched on her serene face. "Dean, you should go in," she said in her youthful voice.

"I…I know…I…" Dean swallowed. He still couldn't get his feet to take that first step. She put a hand on his arm and gently drew him into the room, carefully leading him, like a child, to his brother's bed. _Oh, Sammy. _His brother was a mass of machinery, tubes and wires marking the lines of his brother's life. "Do you know how he is?" He finally found the words, looking down at the tiny woman.

She smiled, gentle compassion, but without the condescension of the doctor.

"That bad, huh?" He said, looking at Sam. "Can I stay for awhile?"

"Yes," she said, she turned and floated out of the room.

"Nuns, Sammy, there are nuns in this place. Real nuns, like in the movies. Remember how disappointed you were when you got your tonsils out and the nuns just wore nurse's uniforms? You wanted them to look like they did in the movies. They do here, Sam." He sank down into the chair by the bed. "You need to get better so you can see them. You'll probably need to protect me from them soon, me and nuns, Sammy, I'm thinking that's not going to be a good mix."

He sighed, listening to the machines, to the sound of life forced in and out of his brother. He kept his eyes turned away from his brother's chest, from the tubes, from the wound he knew was there. "Damn, it's not supposed to be like this. You're not supposed to leave me, Sam. Not again. You have to stay here. With me. God, Sammy, don't leave, please, don't leave." He was looking down at Sam's hand, lying lax on the bed, when sound intruded into his awareness. Or rather lack of sound. The machines weren't beeping and hissing and whirring any more. _What's that? Why did they turn off? What's going on? Sam? Sammy? What's going on? SAM!_

Hospital staff ran into the room, Dean was manhandled out, back into the hallway. The curtains were slammed closed and the door shut in front of him with a sharp sound. He stood staring at the closed door.

"_Dean, how's your brother? Have you heard anything yet?"_

"_No, nothing."_

Someone else ran into Sam's room. _Sam, no. Come on, Sammy, come on. _More people went in shoving him aside. Galen was standing with him.

"_We resuscitated him, but…"_

"_Is my son dying?"_

"_Yes."_

Other images started coming before his eyes, he closed them, but that couldn't block out the visions, couldn't stop the memory as it demanded recognition. _Not now, no, not now. _

"_Sammy dying is not an option, never."_

"_Dean, he's already dead."_

He had his hands pressed against his eyes, trying to stop it. He was aware of Galen, now with an arm over his shoulders, but his whole mind was taken up with the memory, the moments after that hunt. The moments before Sam…

_No, please. _

**Thy father's anguish, thy brother's death**

**Past**

Dean carried a cup of coffee to his father. John looked up and smiled his thanks. They were still waiting for word, waiting for someone to come and tell them how Sam was. Dean had been pacing around the waiting room, pacing out to the parking lot, pacing around the hospital and then starting the rounds again. He had consumed twelve cups of coffee. He had taken his father twice that many. And still no word.

_How does he stay so calm? He has hardly moved, he's just sitting there, dealing with all of this, calm, controlled. Will I ever have that kind of control? That kind of strength? I can't let him see how close I am to losing it. I need to be calm like him. Oh, god, how can he be so calm? _

He started the rounds again. He had just come back in the doors, in from the baking heat in the parking lot when a doctor walked up to his father. Dean sprinted over, not wanting to miss anything.

"His lung collapsed," the doctor said. "We have a chest tube in, he's on a respirator right now."

"But?" John asked. Dean had also heard the hesitation in the doctor's voice.

"He isn't doing as well as he should. There is something else wrong, if we can't figure that out…"

"What?" John said, still calm, controlled.

"Well, he's fading fairly fast right now. We aren't sure why. If we can't find out what's causing it, I'm afraid the prognosis isn't good."

"How not good?" John looked at Dean and back at the doctor.

"We are doing everything we can. You can see him in a few minutes." The doctor turned and walked away.

Dean watched him, watched the man's back as it got smaller. He wanted to chase him down and demand that he take his words back. He wanted to force those words down the man's throat until he admitted it was some kind of terrible mistake. _I don't have dad's calm, it would be nice right now. Nice to have that to hold on to. _He realized his father was looking at him. He glanced up into his father's eyes, then looked away before John could see the screaming grief raging in him.

"Dean?" His father's voice was so controlled.

"Yeah, dad?"

"I…" his father walked away, his shoulders hunched for a minute.

"Dad?" Dean walked over beside him. "What is it?"

John cleared his throat and looked up, whatever it had been was now tightly under control again. "Nothing son." He walked over and got another cup of coffee. Dean started pacing again.

They came to get them fifteen minutes later. Dean trailed behind his father as they walked through the hospital corridors. He noticed the small hospital chapel as he walked past, it was dark _Good place to escape if I need it. Chapels are always quiet, just about always empty. And how many hospitals have I been in to know that? Too many, far too many._

Sammy's room was in ICU. The ward was hushed, voices quieter here than in the rest of the hospital, as if the people there were afraid if they spoke to loudly death would find their loved ones. Dean could hear his heart pounding, his hands were shaking and his was a little nauseous. The closer they got to Sammy's room, the worse he felt. When they finally reached that portal he had to turn back and bolt for the bathroom in the hall. When he emerged his father was still standing outside Sam's room, calm, controlled, waiting for Dean to regain his composure.

They went in together.

For all his recent height Sam looked small and fragile in the bed. Somehow diminished in his few hours there. His eyes were closed. John walked over to the bed and stood looking down at his son. Dean dragged himself to the other side and put a hand down on his brother's. His fingers brushed the edge of the IV, he pulled his hand away from that reminder that Sam wasn't just asleep.

It was silent in the room except for the sounds of the machinery. Nothing stirring, no voices breaking the death-like stillness of the room. Dean's chest ached. He could feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, trying to hold them back, not wanting to break down in front of his father. John was quiet, motionless, Dean glanced up at him, then back down. _That calm is so icy. So removed. I wonder if he's as in control as I think? _Dean swallowed his own tears, trying to keep them down, they were threatening like the pressure against a dam about to break. A great flood of emotion pressing against his eyes, held in his chest.

"Sammy," he said quietly.

"Dean?" His father's voice.

"Sorry, Dad, just wanted him to know I was here."

"It's ok, Dean."

They stood together for a few moments. Almost together, but not quite, John still trapped in his icy calm, Dean fighting the tears trying to explode out of him.

And Sam's heart stopped.

The monitor had a steady tone.

Hospital staff ran into the room, Dean and John were shoved out in the corridor, out beyond the confines of Sammy's room to wait. More people ran in. John was standing completely still beside Dean. Unmoving, Dean was focused away from his father willing his brother back to life.

A doctor came out of the room, a look of clinical detachment on his face. "We resuscitated him, but…"

"Is my son dying?" John said quietly

"Yes." He looked at them with that detachment, with the compassion they all had that meant nothing. "I'm sorry, but yes. We will need to talk later, not now, about what your, his, wishes are." And the doctor walked away.

"Dad, what did he say? What did he mean?" Dean said, he heard the desperation in his voice.

"You heard him, Dean. Sammy's dying."

"No, dad, it's a mistake," he said. _Please let it be a mistake!_

"Dean…" His father cleared his throat. "I…"

And there before Dean's eyes the ice broke—his father broke—the emotion, the anguish, so apparent it hit Dean like a blow. "Dad?"

"Oh, god, Dean, what do we do?" His father asked, lost, reaching out to Dean, like a man drowning. Dean held still, trying to stop the flood of tears, trying to be strong for his father. He walked to John and pulled him against him, his father wept.

Dean's eyes were dry.

**Thy brother languishes to death, and fades away**

**Present**

There were people coming out of Sam's room, walking past Dean where he stood, still unmoving, in the hall. He could feel Galen's arm, warm, heavy, comforting on his shoulder. Under other circumstances he might have pulled away from that familiar contact, but right then, somehow, it held him anchored as his world was spinning out of control.

A doctor stopped in front of him. "How is my brother?" Dean asked, afraid to hear, needing to know.

"He's still alive," the doctor said in a way that led Dean to believe that it was only a matter of time till that changed.

"What happened?"

"There was a fluctuation in the support system," the man said with a frown.

"What?"

"The whole system powered down for some reason."

"Powered down?" _What the hell are you talking about? How exactly does that happen in a hospital? _"Is Sam ok?"

"He's still alive," the doctor repeated.

"But?"

"The system shutting down like that put a great deal of stress on a body that can't take much more," the doctor said.

"What do you mean?"

"Simply put, he is dying. He is fading fast, we don't know why. The injury, while spectacular, is fairly straight forward, and he should have had a good chance at recovery, but he is dying and we can't stop it. We aren't even sure where to begin. It's almost like…" the man trailed off.

"What?"

"I'm not sure, we are doing everything we can, but sometimes in cases like this the patient can give up and there's nothing we can do."

"Sam wouldn't give up, he wouldn't. There must be something else wrong." Dean said, desperately trying to get the doctor to understand. _Sam wouldn't leave, he wouldn't. _Galen tightened the arm around his shoulders, squeezing gently, offering quiet support.

"I'm sorry, I am, you might need to consider…"

"What?" Dean snapped.

"If this decline continues, you might need to consider what his wishes would be. We can keep his body going…but…" the doctor shrugged.

"What his wishes would be?"

"Yes, does your brother have a living will?"

"What?" The words had stopped making sense, they were just sounds, his brain was refusing to hear the meaning, any meaning in what the doctor was saying.

"It's ok, Dean, we don't need to think about that right now," Galen said quietly. "Can he go back in to his brother?"

"Yes, of course," the doctor said walking away.

"Dean, why don't you go in? Sit with your brother for a minute or two?" Galen said steering him back towards the door, drawing him into the room and pushing him down into the chair by the bed. "I'll be outside if you need me," the older man said and quietly left the room.

Dean sat staring at the bed rail for a minute, not really sure how he had ended back in the room, not really sure he wanted to be there, knowing he couldn't leave. "They told me you're dying, Sammy. What the hell do you think you're doing? Not an option, Sam, you dying is not an option. Got it?" His voice was getting loud, the words angry, colored by the enormous grief pushing against his throat, the pain pounding in his chest like his heart was going to explode. He could feel the tears right at the edge of his eyes, they wouldn't come, instead they waited there, behind his eyes like a wound slowly tearing open, but as yet unable to bleed.

_No, Sam, not like this, not now, please stay._

**Life hangs upon me, and becomes a burden**

**Present**

The pain was terrible, running through his body like an electric shock, never letting up, diminishing only a tiny bit before growing again. Nothing would stop it. He was screaming, trying to let someone know, trying to get them to hear him. His voice was silent. Only the pain, the pressure in his chest, an odd scratching sensation in his throat, that was his reality. There was no light, the only sound that of machinery. He was alone.

_Susanna died, I couldn't help her, she died. Please don't be dead, I'm sorry. My fault, I should have known. See, Dean? See why you should have stopped me? I killed her, my fault. Jess…Madison… Susanna, I killed them all Dean, all of them! My fault they're dead, only mine._

"You'll probably need to protect me from them soon," his brother's voice reached him in his dark prison. _Dean? Dean are you ok? Protect you from what? _ "Me and nuns, Sammy, I'm thinking that's not going to be a good mix." _No, Dean, not a good mix, very funny. Not enough rulers in the world to keep you in line. _

Sam heard a soft sound, an intact of breath that most people might have thought was something akin to a sigh, he heard the tears held in check, the icy control of his brother trying to cope. "Damn, it's not supposed to be like this. You're not supposed to leave me, Sam. Not again. You have to stay here. With me. God, Sammy, don't leave, please, don't leave." _I don't want to leave, Dean. I thought I was already dead, but I guess not. I want to stay, but there's something wrong. _

It was getting harder and harder to focus on his brother's presence. The sounds of machinery had stopped. The pain exploded through him, the lack of oxygen like a burning flame starting in his lungs and flowing outward until it consumed him in a great blaze of agony._DEAN! Dean, help me, please help me!_

There were other sounds, then darkness, the pain ended briefly, he was pulled away from that place into another, darker, more silent. He thought he recognized it before it faded away. For an instant he thought there was someone else there, words battering against him like the pain in the other place. _What? What was that? Is someone there?__Dean, did you hear that? Was that the nurse? A doctor? Are you talking to me? What did you say? It will go on like this? Like this? On these machines? Not alive, not dead, just here, like this? Forever? No, let it end, oh, god let it end._

Then the pain, the machines again. The sounds of a mechanical world, his world from now on. He was sure of that, he knew that this was the end, felt it as surely as that moment when the knife had plunged into his back. Only this pain was unending, he could be held there forever. _This pain will never end, it will go on and on and no one knows, no one hears. Dean, can you hear me? It hurts Dean, I think I'm dying, but I can't. I'm trapped, oh god I'm trapped._

"They told me you're dying, Sammy. What the hell do you think you're doing? Not an option, Sam, you dying is not an option. Got it?"_Dean? Are you there? Is that actually you? It's good to hear your voice, I missed you. I am dying. I'm sorry. Dean, I need you to listen, I need you to understand, I wish I could stay, but I can't, I can't live like this, Dean. Please understand that. I'm sorry. I can't. I want to live for you, be with you, stay for you. And Dean, I know, I know what it means to ask this, to say this, but Dean, you have to let me go._

_Please, Dean, please let me go. _

_**To Be Continued**_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Sorry about being a little late with this post. I live in the Pacific Northwest and was lucky enough to experience former tropical storm Ling Ling and had no power on Thursday, and did I worry about no stove or heater? No, just missing the chance to post and of course TV at 9 pm._

**With What Life Remains**

Chapter Five

_Name not the word; my frighted thoughts run back,_

_And startle into madness at the sound. …_

_Thy downcast looks, and thy disorder'd thoughts_

_Tell me my fate._

_-Joseph Addison_

The sounds had become muted, the hospital sliding into the quiet of night. Nurses came and went, checking on Sam, smiling gentle compassion at Dean. In and out, on and on, and still he sat, unmoving beside his brother. He had started talking to him, about their childhood, about what he saw in the room, about his hopes and fears for the future. It felt familiar, it felt frighteningly familiar_. It feels wrong, Sam._

"I never saw this, you know. Not after everything else, Sam, not this." He swallowed down the emotion that was slowly drowning him, slowly pulling him under, taking him to a place he couldn't get beyond. "I thought we'd have more time, I just wanted more time with you. I can't do this without you. Sometimes, Sammy…" _I can't say this aloud, Sam, but sometimes the thought that you might not be there? It kills me, I wake up nearly screaming, since we've been back together, fear every day, terror that something like this would happen. And it did, Sam, and I couldn't live with it. And this time, there's no deal, nothing. Just me without you._

Dean heard the door open. Galen had come back into the room, he had been coming in at regular intervals. For the last three hours he had been trying to convince Dean to leave just long enough to eat. The older man would come in, talk to him and then leave, waiting outside the room until Dean was ready to go. The professor had just walked into the room again, Dean could sense him standing by the door, watching quietly, waiting for Dean to acknowledge him.

"Galen?" Dean said without turning.

"You need to eat. I know you don't want to leave, Dean," Galen said with a sigh. "When Lacey was hurt, you know she and Susanna lived with my wife and I? She was in the grad program for history and Susanna was in anthro. My wife and I used to adopt special students…" He broke off, brushing the tears on his cheeks away. "Sorry, you need to eat, I know. It was the same for me when Lacey was here, dying, after the accident on campus. She was here for weeks, Dean, before... But you have to eat. You can't starve yourself, what would your brother say?"

_He'd tell me to get my ass down and eat. He'd probably get a little snotty about it, make a crack about my diet in general and then carry me down there if I refused to go. _"Ok, but only for fifteen minutes," he stood and put his hand over Sam's, _that's strange, I swear I feel tension there._ He looked at his brother. _I swear I see tension there. Like he's fighting pain. No, that can't be he's sedated. I'm imagining things. There's nothing wrong. I just want there to be something there, something to let me know he's still there. Oh, god, did I just wish him pain. I'm so sorry. _"Sammy? I'm going to go eat, I will be back in fifteen minutes, ok? I'll be right back."

Dean walked beside Galen through the hospital, the halls were hushed, nurses quiet, patients silent in their beds, some watching TV, some picking at food, one man walking out of the chapel crying, stopped and looked at them. His eyes were a little wild, fear rather than grief reflected there. Dean paused, looking at him. _If I didn't know better I'd say he'd seen a…well I guess they could be here… vengeful angry spirits in a hospital just doesn't seem like a good idea. Sam would want to stop, want to find out what was wrong. I should stop and talk with him, ask him what he's seen. No, I can't hunt, not now, not without Sam. _He walked on, trailing further and further behind Galen, lost in his own thoughts, his focus still upstairs with his brother.

There was something bothering him. _What? Am I just reacting to Sam…to Sam. No, I can't think that. I won't. Sam dying is not an option, never. _They reached the cafeteria and Galen led Dean to one of the tables and sat him down. He went to the counter and came back with sandwiches and coffee. He sat down across from Dean and picked up his coffee, looking at Dean over the rim of the cup.

"Eat, Dean," he said quietly after several minutes.

Dean realized he was staring at the food. "What?"

"You should eat."

"Yeah, right, why we're here, isn't it."

"Did you see that man outside of the chapel?" Galen asked as Dean bit into his sandwich. Dean looked at him and frowned. _Yeah, duh, you wait until I had food in my mouth on purpose? _"He looked frightened didn't he?" Galen continued.

Dean swallowed, "I thought the same thing, not sad, scared. Although I guess hospitals can be scary."

Galen was looking at Dean, his eyes searching his face, "Dean, your research—how much of that do you actually believe?"

"What do you mean?"

"Hauntings, that kind of thing, how much do you believe?" He paused looking at Dean again with that same intense stare, as if trying to read the answer in his eyes. The older man must have seen something, he nodded to himself, looked down and then back up. "Do you know what ghost sickness is?"

"Ghost sickness?" _Well, I don't know, are you talking specifically about the Navajo belief? Native American belief in general or the overriding folklore in world tradition? It's known by many names, which particular one are you talking about? Of course Sam could tell you more, the guy is a walking encyclopedia of weirdness sometimes…Sam? I need you here, I need you to stay, ok? Sammy?_ "I might have run across it once or twice." _Or a dozen times._

"What would you say if I told you there had been a rash of illness around here that, to my anthropologist eyes, looked like the descriptions of ghost sickness, like that man in the hallway."

"Unexplained illness?"

"No, something more than that, actually, the terror, the odd things happening, if I didn't know better…"

"What is it?"

"I don't want you to think I am a crazy old man, Dean."

_Like anything you tell me would make me think you are crazy? Ok, if you said you were a vegan? Or you liked say Air Supply or Loverboy, that's crazy, ghosts, not crazy. _"I wouldn't think that."

Galen shrugged, "Sometimes I think this place might be, you know, haunted. Like the building I work in. Or at least that used to be haunted, didn't it?" He was looking at Dean again, daring him to lie.

"It might have been." Dean said with half a smile. He stood and grabbed the coffee and waited for Galen to follow. They walked back through the hallways, each lost in thought. Dean paused outside the small chapel on Sam's floor. He looked in, the room was dark, quiet, empty.

Galen looked at him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder for a minute. "I'll go wait by your brother's room, Dean. Take your time."

Dean opened the door and stepped in. There was a single candle burning in the front of the room. He made it to the far corner, away from the door, before he couldn't go any further. He slid down the wall. _I need to get back to Sam, I need just a moment._

He sighed. _Oh god, Sam, I can't do this. You need to pull through. Galen seems concerned about something here. I need you here to help figure it out. I need you here. What do I do, Sam? I…I think they want me to…Sam I can't do that…Is that perfume? Must be incense, I think it's frankincense like…oh no…no…not now, not on top of everything…_ The scent had triggered memory. _No. No. _The room began to blur around him as that other moment reached out and clawed its way to the front, the images slamming into him, held back for so long that now that they had begun he couldn't stop them.

"_Sammy dying is not an option, dad, never."_

"_Dean, he's already dead."_

"_No, dad, not an option."_

He slammed his head against the wall, willing the memories away, trying to drive them away with pain, with violence, anything that might stop them.

"_Please, dad, just wait three hours, only three, it won't make any difference in the long run."_

"_Dean…"_

"_Dad, please, he can always die, this might be the only chance he has to live."_

Dean put his head in his hands, the tears were still there, balanced just at the edge of his awareness, still unshed, still caught between that hunt so long ago and the room just down the hall.

_Oh, god, no._

**Thy father's anguish, thy brother's death**

**Past**

People flowed around them, moving around the island of grief in the hospital hallway. Dean was holding his father, trying to comfort him somehow, at a loss, his own tears hammering against him, demanding release, but he held them back, held them in check, allowing his father to move safely through his own. Time was passing, Dean longed to go back in with Sam, but he knew his father needed him there. He felt caught between the two right then, the worry and need for his brother beginning to make him a little desperate, a little crazed.

Finally his father pulled away, in control again, the calm back on his face._And I might even believe it, except for the tears still on his cheeks, except for the red eyes, except for the fact I can almost smell his fear. _Dean moved away, needing solace of his own, but not finding any, he walked down the hall to the small dark room. He opened the door, the chapel was empty, lit only by a small candle at one end of the room. There was a lingering sweet scent, Dean thought it might be frankincense. He made it all the way to the corner of the room before his knees gave way, before his legs fell out from under him. He slid down the wall and put his head in his hands. He had no idea how long he had been sitting there, the words were hammering in his head, pulling his focus away. He felt lost, out of control.

_I need to get back to Sammy, I need to talk to dad. There is something wrong. I know it, something I can stop. They are making a mistake. I know it. They have to be._

He heard the door open, he looked up as his his father walked in. He stood beside him, towering over him, looking down at him. "Dean we need to talk."

"No, dad."

"Dean, the doctor said…"

"No, dad."

"Dean. Your brother…"

"No, dad. No." Dean stood up so he could look his father in the eye. "Sammy dying is not an option, dad, never."

His father looked at him, fear, grief so much a part of him it was as if he had ceased to exist and only those emotions were there. "Dean, he's already dead."

_No, no, no. _"No, dad, not an option." _Listen to me, dad, no. We need to do something to save him. There has to be something we can do, Sam can't die, dad. What would I do? Who would I be without Sam?_

"The doctor just spoke with me, he said Sammy is gone, he's already gone." His father put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "We need to let him go, let him rest, Dean."

Dean pushed his father's hand away. "NO!" He looked at John, imploring, begging. "Dad, there has to be something we can do. There has to be," and he could hear the fear in his own voice, feel the tears where they were held captive behind his eyes, still unshed. He pushed past his father, he shoved him against the wall and left the room, nearly running back to his brother. He opened the door, and taking a deep breath, he walked to Sam's bed.

"Sammy, man, you can't do this, I need you here. You can't give up, not yet. Give me just a little time to figure this out."

_I know you think you don't fit in, that you aren't like us, and maybe you're not, but that doesn't matter. Don't you see, Sammy? Being with dad is just not enough for me, being like dad is not enough, all that matters because of you. Oh, god, Sammy, it only matters, I only matter…_

He put his hand over his brother's, "I don't know who I am without you, I don't know if I can go on without you, Sammy. I really don't." He sighed. "Actually I do know, and I would probably never say this, but I can't. I can't make it without you."

He was looking down at Sam, trying to get his bearings, he knew his father had come into the room and was standing at the door watching him. _And I don't care this time. No. Sammy dying is not an option. There has to be something else going on, sure getting shot with an arrow sucks but…_He listened to the sound of the machine helping Sam breathe, he listened to the beeps of the other monitors.

"_The creature, Dean."_

"Sammy?" He could swear he had just heard his brother's voice, clearly._Maybe a memory? What did he say? I know there is something else wrong here, maybe it has to do with when the bear thing caught Sam with its claws? Could that be it? If I kill the creature? Could that save him? I think killing it will save him. I have to try, I have to, any chance I can give him is something. I have to try. Wait just a little longer, Sammy, I have an idea. Just let me try. _ He turned to his father, looking at John standing by the door, small, helpless.

"Dean…"

"Dad, I think that there's something more going on here, I think it has to do with that thing we were hunting."

"Dean, you're clutching at straws."

"Let me go hunt it, just for three hours, dad, before you do anything."

"Your brother…"

"If he's already dead what will a few hours do? Please."

"I…Dean…I spoke with the doctor about it…"

"Please, dad, just wait three hours, only three, it won't make any difference in the long run."

"Dean…"

"Dad, please, he can always die, this might be the only chance he has to live." Dean walked to his father, he stood in front of him, close, almost touching. "I don't ask for much, give me this. If I can save him, I have to try. Please, just give me three hours. Three. You stay here with Sammy, just let me do this."

John looked at him, his eyes lost, tears still on his face. "Ok, you're right, it won't hurt him to wait and it might save him. You're right, let's go. I'll let them know we will be back in three hours."

"No, dad, you need to stay here with Sammy, I'll be back."

"I don't want you hunting alone, son."

"No, if something goes wrong, someone needs to be here with him."

"You stay, let me go," John said.

"I can't dad, I have to go, I have to help, waiting would kill me." He turned his back on his father and walked over to Sam's bed. He put a gentle hand down on his brother's arm. "I'm going to kill that thing that did this, wait till I get back, Sammy, I promise I'll be back, you just wait for me, ok, kiddo?" He squeezed Sammy's arm and walked back to his father, looking him right in the eyes, hoping his father would see what he meant. "You wait too, understand me?"

"Dean…"

"You need to promise me you'll wait, dad. Three hours." _We can lie, all of us, but once we promise, that is unbreakable._ "Dad?"

"I'll wait three hours. I promise, Dean. I hope you're right."

"I have to be, there's really no other choice." He looked away from his father, from the man's anguish, and walked out of the room, away from his brother, praying that he was right, hoping he could save the life that meant more to him than his own.

**Life Hangs upon me, and becomes a burden**

**Present**

The pain was becoming worse. It was shifting into agony, unending, untouchable agony. Something was forcing air into his lungs. There was something lodged in his throat. He could feel it, he couldn't fight it. His chest hurt, he could feel the great wound there, his body impaled, the tube resting there like the spike that had held him to the seat. His body wouldn't respond to his commands. The little life remaining in him was never ending horror, terrible beyond thought, beyond belief. He could hear sounds, the machinery keeping him trapped there, he could hear his brother. Dean had been talking, it seemed like forever that he had been suspended in that world of pain, listening to his brother's voice.

"I thought we'd have more time, I just wanted more time with you. I can't do this without you. Sometimes, Sammy…" _Dean? What? What is it? I wanted more time with you Dean, and I only had a year before this happened. Only a year Dean, do you know what that meant to me? Hearing that? How exactly do you expect me to go on without you?_

_Although that doesn't matter anymore, Dean. I'm dying. I need to die. And if I die, Dean, maybe you won't have to. If I'm dead maybe that will break the deal_

_I killed her, Dean. It's my fault she died. It would have been better if I had died. And Dean, please don't let me live like this, I can't. You need to take me off of these things. That's what she said, that I would have to stay like this, there's no hope for me. She told me that. I think she might have been a doctor, Dean, did she talk to you?_

The pain was increasing, inching up on him bit by bit. He felt more aware of his surroundings, his body still wouldn't respond but the pain was terrible. He could feel everything. His body was tensing against the pain, trying to fight it, unable to do so.

A warm hand dropped onto his. _Dean? Your hand feels good, it makes it better, somehow. Hearing your voice makes it a little better, too. But I can't go on like this forever, caught here between life and death in this hell of pain. I can't move, I can't talk to you, Dean, I'm already dead. I'm just held here vulnerable, dependent, in pain, suspended in a half-life of inescapable torture. I can't stand this, this isn't me anymore, this isn't life. Let me escape. Dean please, let this end. _"Sammy? I'm going to go eat, I will be back in fifteen minutes, ok? I'll be right back." _Fifteen minutes? Promise, Dean? When you get back Dean, you need to…Dean, hurry. I can't do this on my own…I can't…I need you to help me. Please, hurry._

He sensed that his brother had left the room. It was dark, cold, the sounds of the machines were overwhelming, each tiny noise was like a knife drilling into him. He felt like he was impaled again, the pain in his chest was increasing.

"She's dead because of you," the voice whispered into his dark world. _Yes, yes she is. _"You should be dead," the whisper continued. _Yes, I should. _"You will continue like this forever. They can keep you like this forever. They kept me for weeks like this, weeks. It felt like a lifetime."

_No, no. I can't live like this I can't. Dean will let me go, he'll have to let me go. He has to understand I can't live like this, in this pain, helpless. He'll understand I can't live like this, he will let me go. He has to._

"He can't hear you, you can beg, you can scream and they can't hear you. I can hear you," the voice hissed to him. It was angry. "I know you need to die, but I want to keep you like this, just for a while longer, just long enough for my sister." _Sister?_"She's dead because of you," the whisper hiss continued. _Yes, she is dead because of me, they all are dead because of me, Dean is dead because of me. _

"Yes, and as long as you lie here like this, trapped by these machines, he will still be dead. And you could be here for a long, long time, all the time he has left. Like this, waiting, knowing he's dead, and still you will be here like this. And then you'll know, you'll understand what it means to lose your brother. A whole lifetime trapped like this knowing that."

_I can't live like this, I can't continue like this forever. I can't let this be all we have left, no. I can't let Dean die for me if I am like this. His life for this world of pain, this hell? His life for this, no. No, he has to let me go._

"I can help," the voice said gently, imploring, offering hope. _What?_"Let me help," the serpent whisper of the voice said again. _I have to wait to say goodbye to Dean. _"Yes, that will be perfect."

"Then I will let you die."

_Yes. Then I can go, I just need to say goodbye._

He thought he heard the door open, he felt Dean's hand on his again, warm, a touch of life in that cold hell he was trapped in. "Sam?"

_Dean. It's ok. _

"Sam, I don't know what to do."

_I'm dead, Dean. I need to be gone, let me go. _

"Sam, you have to hang on. You have to, I can't let you go."

The agony holding him suddenly twisted, impaling him again, pushing him near to madness. He strained against what was holding him, willed the machines to stop, tried to reach his brother. He was trapped. _Please, you said you would help, you said you would let me die._

"Yes, but not yet," the voice laughed. "Not just yet."

He screamed, he begged, Dean couldn't hear him, the voice laughed at him and still he continued.

_Please help me, Dean, please do what needs to be done. LET THIS END!_

**Thy brother languishes to death, and fades away**

**Present**

The chapel was quiet and dark. Comforting in a way. Dean sat in that small isolation, trapped, wanting to leave, unable to force his body into movement. He had his head in his hands, the tears still hadn't come, he could feel them, but he couldn't let them go. _I have to get back to Sam, it's been fifteen minutes, and I promised, I need to get back._

He pushed himself up the wall and walked out of the chapel. Galen was sitting outside of Sam's room. He looked up when Dean approached. "The doctor just went in," he said quietly. Dean stood beside him, waiting for the doctor, somehow it seemed easier to wait in the hall than watch them examine his brother. The door opened and the man walked out.

"Mr. Young…"

"Yes?"

The doctor looked at Galen with a small frown on his face, "I really need to speak with just family."

"Galen is our uncle," Dean said quickly, suddenly fearing being alone in the hallway.

"Oh, very well. Your brother's condition is deteriorating. We are trying to keep him comfortable but…"

"But, but what?" Dean snapped, Galen stood and put his hand briefly on Dean's arm.

"There are problems, you will need to make a decision soon."

"Decision? Problems?" Dean paused, realization dawning, "Is…oh god…is he suffering?"

"We think that might be a problem, yes."

"You think? Might?" _Sammy? Oh, god, no._

"Yes, we can't be sure. He has deteriorated so far it is hard to know if…"

"If what?" Dean said, he was shaking, Galen reached out to him again. "Are you telling me…"

The doctor looked at him and shoved his glasses off his nose. "The time for a decision is coming, Mr. Young, you need to think about it."

Dean watched the doctor walk away. "Oh, god," he whispered. Galen put an arm over his shoulders. "I need to talk to Sam." Dean said and walked out from under that comforting embrace.

He walked into Sam's room and over to the bed. He put his hand down on Sam's. He could feel the tension there now, very apparent, Sam's muscles were fighting against something. _Oh, Sammy. _"Sam?"_Can you hear me?_"Sam, I don't know what to do." _I can't do this Sam. I can't. _"Sam, you have to hang on. You have to, I can't let you go." _Oh, god, I can't let you go, Sam, but Sammy, they said you were suffering—are you? I can't let you live like that, Sam. I can't let that happen. I can't save you this time, can I Sam?_

_Oh, god, Sammy, what do I do?_

_I have to let you go, don't I?_

_Oh, Sam. What do I do?_

_**To Be Continued**_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing! An extra special thank you to my beta Abni for a 4 am night helping me get this ready to post. And again, not death fic. Not death fic. Not death fic._

**With What Life Remains**

Chapter Six

_What do I say?_

_my half-recover'd sense_

_Forgets the vow in which my soul is bound._

_Destruction stands betwixt us!_

_We must part_.

_-Joseph Addison_

The room was bereft of the sounds of humanity, the only noise that of the machines keeping Sam alive. Dean was standing with his hand still on his brother, feeling the tension, trying to understand what that meant. The hospital was quiet outside the open door. Night had come to the hospital and most visitors had left, TVs were off, even the nursing staff moved with a silent step through the halls. The hush carried a meaning "We don't want to wake death if he is sleeping" and so the quiet, the whispered voices, the souls lost between life and death.

"What do I do?" He said to his brother. "They tell me you are dying, I don't know. They said I need to make a decision. They said you were suffering. Are you? Oh, god, Sam, I need to know. I can't let you suffer if there is no hope, but if there is even a tiny bit, I can't let you go." _I need to talk to you, I need you here to help with this. If you are suffering, how much? What if you stay like this forever? Oh my god, Sam, what if my year is up and I have to go and I leave you like this, oh god, I couldn't leave you, not like this, not suffering. Sammy, I want to give you every chance to live, I need to give you a chance, but how much is me not wanting to lose you? If I could only know what you wanted, Sammy. At least we could argue about it a little. I would give anything to take some of this—all of this—on to my shoulders, but then you would be standing here faced with this. What would I want? I would want to stay with you, but I might want you to let me go, too. How bad is it Sam? Is it so bad you want—oh god you need—to go? What do I tell them? If you are suffering…Oh, god, Sam, what do I do?_

A warm arm was placed over his shoulders, Galen had come into the room, "Dean? What can I do to help you?" he said gently.

"I…I don't know," he answered honestly. _What do I say? What do I do? There is nothing here for me to fight, nothing to kill, that would make it easier._

"I understand what you are going through, Lacey was here for a long time," he said softly.

"Yeah, I remember you said that," Dean sighed, looking at Sam. He stood quietly under Galen's arm, thinking. The older man didn't say anything else, just stood there beside him, ready for whatever came._Well, Sam? What do I do?_ As if in answer to the question he heard an odd beep, a slight hiss and then silence. Before he even knew he had reacted, he was running to the door, yelling for help, shattering the silence of the corridor. Staff ran towards him, the door closed behind him, he wasn't even really sure what happened. He knew he was in the hall, he knew Galen was beside him. "What happened?" he asked the empty hallway.

"I think the machines turned off again," Galen said looking at him. "Dean?" Pause. "Dean?"

Dean looked up at him, focusing on his concerned face. "What?"

"Things…" he stopped himself.

"What is it?" Dean said. "This is what you were talking about? Ghost sickness and all?" _Sam, please come through, please, not yet. Not yet, you hear me Sam? _

"Yes, this is part of it," Galen said. "And you believe, don't you? I thought you did, but I know now, you do, don't you."

"You mean in ghosts? Other things like that?" Dean looked at Galen, looked into his eyes, gauging him, finding only acceptance, friendship he sighed. "Yes, I do believe." _What is taking so long? How long has it been? Sam? Come on Sam._

"And more than that? It's why my building isn't haunted anymore?"

"Maybe," Dean said looking towards the door to Sam's room. _What do I do if…? Or worse, what do I do if they come and say decide right now? Sam? Not yet, please not yet._

"I thought so," Galen said. "Can I ask you something?"

Dean pulled his eyes back to the older man, "what?"

"When I came in the chapel, you said 'there's really no other choice' what was that about? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Sam was hurt when he was fifteen. It was kind of like this…I…we…." Dean couldn't go on, the door to Sam's room had opened and the small doctor with glasses came over to them. "Is Sam ok? What happened?" Dean said, nearly grabbing him.

"The system seems to have powered down again," the man looked at Dean, in his eyes, looking for an answer.

"You don't think…No…I wouldn't," Dean said, realizing what that look meant.

"I hope not, it would be cruel, beyond cruel, to put him through that."

"Is he…?"

"At this point still alive, at least his body is still alive."

"His body?"

"We aren't sure there is anything left of your brother, there is a good chance he's already dead."

"What?"

"_Dean, he's already dead."_

"We'll need a decision from you soon."

"_No, dad, not an option."_

"I need some time to think."

"_Please, dad, just wait three hours, only three, it won't make any difference in the long run."_

"We can give you time," the doctor said turning to walk away.

"_You need to wait too, you understand me?"_

"Dean? Are you alright?" Galen's voice was concerned.

"_Dad? What happened?"_

"_Dean your brother, I'm…"_

"_Dad, no, no."_

Dean felt his knees starting to buckle, Galen steered him gently into a chair. The corridor was fading, it felt hot, the memory was forcing its way into him, violent, unstoppable. _No, not now, no._ It was pulling him away, he tried to focus back on that hallway, back to the door to his brother's room. The flood continued to rise, suddenly pulling him under and he was drowning.

**Thy father's anguish, thy brother's death**

**Past**

Dean walked down the corridor, away from his father, away from Sam. Down through the hospital and out in the scorching daylight. The heat was rising from the blacktop like a living thing writhing around him, taking his breath away. He was bathed in sweat and it dried the next instant. The asphalt felt soft in the baking oven. He got to the car and unlocked the door, burning his hand on the door handle. _Great, just great, a nice way to start this. Sammy, you wait for me to get back. Dad, you wait too. Please hang on, Sammy. _The steering wheel burned his hands as he gripped it and drove back into the desert, back to find the thing that had hurt Sammy.

The desert was empty now, the little creatures of the cool hours of the morning long gone, hidden away from the heat of the day. The road moved and shimmered, images from further out reflecting on the landscape like a rippling mirror. He drove back up through the mountain road, now hotter even than the surrounding desert as the walls of the small canyon had been heated by the sun.

He parked where they had parked only that morning. He could still see the drag marks made by Sammy's feet as Dean and John had carried him back to the car, back to get him help. _And that did him a lot of good. _Dean opened the trunk and sorted through what was there. He shoved the gun in his waistband, grabbed a bow and arrows and headed back up the path to the cave. _Dad might be right, I might be clutching at straws, but if I don't try and Sammy…no I can't think that…but if something happened I couldn't go on. You hang in there little brother, you hear me? _

He walked up the path along the cliff to the rock with the charcoal drawings on it. "Come out come out wherever you are," he yelled up the canyon. He walked a little further along the trail. It ended abruptly in a dry waterfall, dropping off more than a hundred feet into another canyon below. He turned back, looking for some other path that might lead him where the creature was, anything that might give him a clue. After twenty minutes he had found nothing. _On the clock here, I only have three hours. Dad only promised three hours. _

Dean stopped in front of the rock with the symbols. Looking more closely at it he could see small spatters of blood and a dark trail leading off the edge of the cliff. He had mistaken the blood for the track water would make over the iron rich stones. There was a small piece of charcoal lying beside the rock, beside the small spots of blood on the pink sandstone. _I wonder if a ritual is needed? Or just the symbols? _He picked up the blackened bit of wood and copied the symbols from the rock onto the path in front of him.

He waited.

The desert was almost completely silent. He could hear the buzzing of an insect somewhere and the sharp call of a desert bird. The wind was bringing the scent of water up the canyon, rich, full of life, slightly decayed. The resinous smell of cottonwood and chaparral hung heavy over the canyon. Dean's knees burned where he was kneeling against the rocks. He pushed himself up looking down into the canyon below, looking down where Sam had been attacked.

And something hit him from behind.

He tumbled off the edge, slamming into the ground fifteen feet below. The breath was knocked out of him and he barely had time to move before the thing took a swipe at him. Dean pulled his gun out and fired. The bear thing roared, the crying echoing up and down the canyon. It came at Dean again. He rolled away, madly scrabbling towards the bow, to where it had ended up after the fall from the path above. The thing caught him with that second blow and he went tumbling down the water course. His back and shoulder were stinging where the creature's claws had scratched him. _Oh, that can't be good._ He pushed himself back on his feet and ran towards the bow again. The creature blocked his way.

He felt a little odd, slightly dizzy, as he watched the creature pacing back and forth in front of the bow. It finally walked over and picked the weapon up in one huge paw. _And it can now shoot me, just freaking wonderful. _It sniffed it and then put the bow in its mouth, the fiberglass broke with a snap that echoed like a gunshot in the small canyon. It spit the pieces out onto the ground and looked up at Dean with a "so there" look in its eyes.

The canyon walls were starting to swim at the edges of his vision. The poison from the claws, as small as the scratches seemed, was beginning to affect him. He looked at the thing, it was huge, the size of a grizzly with an odd face, half man, half bear. It was frightening, looking at the near human intelligence on its face. _Not scary enough to keep me from killing it. This can save Sammy, I'm sure of it. And even if it can't at least this thing is dead for what it did to my brother._

Dean stood swaying in the dry streambed, the smell of water filling the air, the sound of a lazy hornet drifting around him. He saw movement in the corner of his eye, a bright red snake was speeding along the sunny rocks heading for the shade in the cave that stood with its great open mouth just to his right. The creature had turned momentarily to watch the snake's progress. _Which was a huge mistake. _

In one motion Dean pulled an arrow out of the quiver on his back and began moving towards the thing. He hit it hard, all of his weight thrust behind the arrow as he drove it into the creature's chest, deep into its heart, impaling it like Sam had been impaled by their father's shot. The creature howled in pain and grabbed at Dean. He pulled another arrow out and drove it in the thing's neck, it screamed that time then suddenly dropped, its blood spilling over him, its huge carcass driving him down onto the heated sandstone. His head smacked against the stones. He saw stars for a moment, then nothing.

There were flies buzzing loudly around him. He was hot, it was hard to breathe, there was something huge and furry on top of him. For a moment he didn't remember where he was. Then the events of the morning, of the last few hours came back, hitting with physical violence. _Sammy! It's dead. _Dean shoved the creature up enough to slide out from under it. His back smarted where sweat was trickling salt into the scratches the creatures claws had made. _But I don't feel dizzy, well except for that little bump on my head. _He looked at his watch. _Oh god, I have to hurry. Dad, wait, I'll be there, only a few more minutes! It's dead, Sammy can get better! Please dad, please wait for me!_

He ran back to the car and drove down the mountain road, down onto the desert floor. He was driving a little too fast and he was pretty sure he heard something scrape against the side of the car. The desert flew by in a cloud of dust, the car was a little out of control, slewing back and forth on the gravel road. He hit the paved road at fifty and increased the speed from there. By the time he turned off the highway at the hospital exit he had pushed the car to near ninety five. He was out the door and running before the engine had stopped its tiny sputtering. _Hang on, Sammy! Dad, hang on. I'm coming. Please wait!_

Rather than wait for the elevator he ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The orderly he passed on the way up was staring at him. He broke out into the hallway and ran towards Sammy's room. He stopped dead when he saw his father waiting outside the room, tears on his face. He looked stunned, he looked injured, he looked like part of him was dead.

"Dad? What happened?" _I killed it, it's ok, I killed it, please, dad, say it's ok._

"Dean, your brother, I'm…"

"Dad, no, no." Dean looked at him, grabbed his shoulders and shook his father. "You said you would wait."

"I was, I did, Dean, but Sammy just…" His father stopped. He was broken, Dean could see that, he could feel his father's anguish rising up, an animal standing between them. "He died, Dean. I… Sammy's gone…"

_No, no, no. Sammy, no. No, don't be dead, please little brother, don't be dead._

**Life hangs upon me, and becomes a burden**

**Present**

His brother was there. He knew that, he was holding on to that, needing that to keep him sane, to keep the hell he now lived in pushed back a tiny bit. Dean's hand was still resting on him, warm, life-giving, taking a little of the pain away, almost as if he were drawing it away from Sam and into himself. The hospital had grown quiet around them, the noise of the machines growing louder in the hush. Each mechanical sound, each whisper of that existence, tore at Sam, filling him with icy pain, with despair, pulling hope away as surely as winter took warmth from the world.

"What do I do?" Dean's voice was heavy with grief, with confusion, Sam could hear it there.

_Dean, you need to do what's right, I know you know._

"They tell me you are dying, I don't know."

_I am dying, Dean._

"They said I need to make a decision."

_Yes, you do. Please make the right one, please hurry, Dean. I can't stand this._

"They said you were suffering. Are you? Oh, god, Sam, I need to know. I can't let you suffer if there is no hope, but if there is even a tiny bit, I can't let you go."

_Yes, Dean, this might be suffering, it might be something worse, I don't know. But there is no hope, none at all, let me go. I'm sorry, Dean, I don't want to, but I need to go._

Sam heard another voice, he thought it sounded like Susanna's professor. The voice was gentle, comforting. He heard Dean respond honestly to that voice. _He trusts him? Good, he has someone there to help him when I am gone. _

"What is he doing here?" Angry hissing, she had returned. "What does he mean talking about me like he cared? If he cared would he have let me suffer?"

Sam realized the professor had been talking about Lacey. _Susanna's sister, you're Susanna's sister? _

"He is fond of your brother, I can tell. Everyone he touches suffers." Her voice continued, hissing out the hatred with each word. "Everyone suffers." _Please, you said you would help me die. _"A little suffering, a little more, I think, then we'll talk about my helping you again." Sam heard the machines turn off. He couldn't draw a breath. _Yes, let me die, thank you. _

"Help! Help me!" He heard Dean yelling. _No, Dean, no, let me go._

"Not so fast," the voice hiss through the growing pain. The terrible agony was hammering against his chest, the wound growing till he felt like he was twisting around it, fluttering in a wind of agony. His chest was exploding, he prayed for the darkness, he begged for it. And it didn't come. He was there for everything, he knew what they were doing to him. He was screaming and they didn't hear. He was crying and there were no tears. There was nothing except hell, endless pain-soaked hell holding him captive on that bed of agony.

The machines were on again. He was alone.

"Nearly time," the voice hissed.

He heard footsteps, heavy, dragging, as if whoever was walking towards the bed was weighed down, unable to push forward. A gentle hand, that time on his head, "Sam?"

_Dean, oh god, Dean, I can't, please don't make me, please, Dean. _

"What do I do, Sammy?" Dean's voice was full of tears. His thumb gently stroked Sam's forehead, soft soothing movements like Dean had done when they were children and Sam had been sick or frightened. "If I only knew what you wanted."

_I want to end this Dean. I have to end this. How can I make you understand?_He concentrated, putting every ounce of life remaining to him into reaching his brother, willing his brother to understand, willing his brother to hear him. _Dean, I need to go, please, let me go. Put a bullet in my head, just let this end. _His brother's hand was pulled from his head, he heard Dean stumble back.

Then the hand on his again. "Oh, god, Sammy. No." _Yes, Dean. That is my life now, that is what is left to me._

"Time," her voice whispered.

_Yes, thank you._

"Oh, it won't be that easy," she hissed. "Not that easy at all." She laughed, a hysterical note in her voice.

The door suddenly slammed. Dean's hand was ripped from his and Sam heard him grunt as he was thrown against the opposite wall.

_Dean? Dean, are you ok? Dean!_

"Your turn."

_My turn to die, yes. Wait, my turn? Dean? Is Dean ok? You said you would help me die…_

"I think I said it wouldn't be easy."

_No, just take me, let me die, let Dean live. Dean! No, she was just supposed to take me. _

_Please, just let me die._

"Yes, it's time."

_**To Be Continued**_

_A/N: I will be away from the computer I can upload from until Monday evening, I will post chapter seven then._


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Not death fic._

**With What Life Remains**

**Chapter Seven**

_Thou must not go, my soul still hoverrs o'er thee,_

_And can't get loose..._

_Am I doom'd_

_To life or death?_

_-Joseph Addison_

The hallway was empty. The nursing staff had returned to their station, the doctor had not returned. Dean sat where Galen had led him, trapped in the memories of that hunt so long ago. He could still feel the chill of the corridor, even colder after the scorching heat of the desert. His shoulder itched where the bear things claws had scratched him so long ago. He could still smell the slight antiseptic scent of that other hospital. He was trapped, caught in a limbo between past and present.

"_Dad, no, no. You said you would wait."_

"_I was, I did, Dean, but Sammy just…He died, Dean. I… Sammy's gone…"_

He was finding it hard to breathe, hard to focus on what he needed to do, what he needed to decide. Words spun around him like faint mists, touching him briefly but swirling away almost unheeded. Galen had been trying to tell him something, the doctor had been trying to tell him something. None of it touched him for more than a whisper of time. Hushed voices amidst the screaming in his mind. Those moments from all those years ago had blended with the hours here in the present, binding into a knot of physical pain, of mental anguish, pulling his thoughts away, not letting his rational mind find the answers he so desperately needed. All he saw was Sam, in the room down the hall, in the car—impaled, saying goodbye, in the desert, shot—impaled, bleeding, saying goodbye in the front seat of the Impala, in the hospital struggling for life.

_Sam what do I do, I'm lost without you, I can't let you go. I never told you, did I, about those hours__after that hunt? When they told dad you were dead and they wanted us to let you go? I never told you about those minutes after dad told me you were dead, gone. I…oh, god, Sam…I just told you I killed the thing…I never told you the important stuff. That's what's coming back to haunt me, little brother. I'm thinking about that right now, all the important stuff I haven't said or things I laughed about or things I outright denied. _

Dean had his head in his hands, pressing against his eyes, hoping the tears would come if he just pressed a little harder. They were still trapped there behind his eyes, burning and throbbing like a festering wound. The pain had moved into his throat, his chest, making it hard to breathe, the tears threatening, but still held tight against the wound in his heart.

"Do you think it's odd the machines have turned themselves off twice?" Galen said sitting down next to him.

"What?" He looked up and tried to focus, Galen seemed a little blurry. _That's what I get for trying to shove my eyeballs into my brain, I guess._

"Twice your brother's support has powered down, and isn't it odd the doctor is riding you so hard about this? Having to decide today, right now?" Galen was looking at him, like he was trying to see if the words were penetrating his brain.

"What?" Dean was hearing the words, but they were just sounds, making no sense. _Leave me alone I need to think._

"They wait, as long as they can Dean. Lacey was here for two weeks before they started talking to Susanna about making a decision. And here they are telling you need to decide in just a few hours? How can they possibly be expecting you to think clearly, make a rational decision?"

"What are you talking about?" _Why is he bothering me with this? They said Sammy is dying, dead, and why…_

"There is something going on Dean, something is affecting your brother, the machines, the doctor. Think about it, son," Galen looked at him, saw he wasn't focused, he turned Dean towards him and shook him "Dean, listen to me!"

Dean looked up at him, seeing Galen, seeing his father in a moment held frozen in his heart from that time years before. "You don't understand, I just, I can't… there's nothing for me to do."

"Dean?" Galen said gently, putting an arm over his shoulders, "What is it? Does this have to do with what you were talking about, when your brother was fifteen?"

Dean was lost, trapped in the past, seeing his father, needing John to hear him, needing him to understand he had to save Sam, that he couldn't save Sam. "Oh god, dad, I can't save him this time, can I? There's nothing to hunt, no deal, nothing. He's going to die, isn't he, dad?" He could hear his voice breaking, he could hear the plea for understanding, for a response from his father. "What do I do? Is this what you were faced with? Oh, god… How can I fix this, dad.? Please, help."

Someone was shaking him. He snapped back into awareness, looking at Galen. The older man had tears on his face, his look compassionate, questioning. Dean sighed, "Sorry, I'm sorry, I can't stop the memories, things keep triggering them and once they start I can't stop." He looked back down at the floor. Seeing the gray tiles, seeing the green tiles from so long ago.

"Tell me," Galen said. "You need to get back to your brother in a moment, but you need to get through this, so you can focus. Tell me."

_I wonder if there is a reason these keep coming back? He could be right, this is keeping me from something I need to see. I wonder if I tell him if he can see what I'm missing? _"I don't know." _What do I do? _He sighed, fighting the urge to talk. _I can't he won't understand. _The habits of a lifetime were holding the words in check, they were there, hammering against him, demanding release, he forced them down again. _No, I can't we don't talk about this. _The memories were swimming to the surface demanding recognition, pulling him back into the deep water again. _I need help, no, I need to stay focused here, maybe telling him will help. Maybe it will keep me here, with Sam. _He knew he couldn't fight the memories on his own, he needed someone to keep him afloat. He relented, finally and smiled wanly at Galen. "You'll think I'm crazy."

"Dean, you should know that I have worked all over the world. I have seen things that most people would discount, would absolutely deny. I did, once, but I have seen too much to not know there are things out there that other people pretend don't exist. I believe." He was looking at Dean and squeezed Dean's shoulder. "I think you and your brother deal with, understand, those same things. Like the ghost in my building."

"My father did too," Dean said, suddenly needing to get it out of him._Maybe this will help. _ "That's how Sam was hurt that time. Out in the desert some kind of animal that had been summoned for some reason. Never did find out why it was summoned. It got Sam with its claws, they were poison, we ended up at a hospital."

"Of course, and…?"

"They told dad Sammy was dead, that we needed to let him go…" He trailed off. _Sam, you have to hold on, I'm trying to figure out what to do, just hang on a little longer. _

"Like this?"

"But there was something going on, I knew it, and dad…" He was talking to the floor. Looking away from the concern, from the tears on Galen's face. The current was beginning to tug on him, pulling him away from Galen's gentle compassion.

"_I was, I did, Dean, but Sammy just…He died, Dean. I… Sammy's gone…"_

"You tried to convince your father?"

"_Dad, what do you mean?"_

"Yeah, he finally heard me long enough to let me hunt it, finally. I think he was ready to let go," Dean said hearing his own words, and stopping for a moment.

"_His heart stopped. They are working on him, but I told them…"_

"But Sam lived." Galen said gently.

"_What did you tell them? Dad?"_

"Dean?" Galen said again.

"_Dad?"_

Dean was drowning, getting pulled back away from Galen, back away from Sam, back from that moment into the past, caught in the flood waters and unable to stop. He didn't resist this time, instead allowing the current to catch him and pull him back to that other moment when Sam was nearly lost.

**Thy father's anguish, thy brother's death**

**Past**

His world had ended. There was nothing, no light, no dark, no sound. It was gone. The sun was a black cancer on the sky, the light filtering down killing in its intensity. There was nothing. His heart had stopped, there were no tears, there was only breathless, endless pain. He was dead, the life ripped from him by the killing words.

"What?" He whispered, the words forced out in an exhalation of pain.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," his father said, tears on his face, still standing looking towards Sammy's room. His father did not move, did not reach out to Dean, he was closed off, shuttered. Dean was alone.

"Dad, what do you mean?" _Dad, please. It can't be, what will I do?_

"His heart stopped. They are working on him, but I told them…" His father was still looking away, his arms straight down at his sides, like he had forgotten how to move.

"What did you tell them, dad?" Dean said standing in front of his father, trying to get John to look at him, make contact in some way, it was as if his father had slipped into the grave and wasn't ever going to return." Dad?"

"I…would it be…" John's voice trailed off, disappearing into the quiet hallway.

"Dad? What? What did you tell them?" Dean finally couldn't take it anymore, he grabbed his father's shoulders and shook him until finally John looked up.

"I said if he didn't…they should just let him…"

"No, dad, I killed it, he can get better now." _Please, dad, I told you to wait. You promised you would wait. How is this waiting? He's not dead, dad, you said he was dead and he's not—not yet at least. _

"Dean, he's dead, they said he was dead, we need to let him go."

"If his heart is beating, there is hope dad. You should know that," Dean said, hearing the anger, the desperation in his voice. "Sam isn't a dog you put down because he's sick. He's my brother—your son—and we can't just let him go without a fight."

"Dean…" Dean realized his father's eyes weren't really focused on him, Dean shook him again. His father looked away, trying to turn from Dean.

"Dad, no. Go tell them you were wrong."

"Dean…" John couldn't seem to move beyond that one word, he was holding on to it, anchoring himself with that one word in the storm raging around him.

"No. Dad, look at me. No, Sammy dying is not an option. No." His father was still looking away and Dean, for maybe only the second or third time in his life, struck his father, a hard open handed slap. Trying to use that to bring his father back from wherever he was lost. Still his father didn't come back, Dean shook him again. "DAD!"

John blinked, "What? Dean, they said…"

"I don't care, they are wrong. It's a mistake. You have to go tell…" Dean stopped, the door to Sam's room opened and the doctor came out. Dean stood perfectly still, not daring to breathe, not wanting to hope, not wanting to hear that Sam was dead.

"Doctor?" John said quietly.

"Your son…he…"

"What?" Dean snapped. _All I need is the damn doctor to start doing that, too. Come on, just tell us what the hell happened._

"We lost him…" the doctor said.

_No, Sammy is not dead, no. Not an acceptable answer, Doc. You need to fix that. Please don't let my brother be dead. _

"But, then…he…" the doctor broke off as if he had been caught by surprise by whatever had happened.

The rest of his words were lost to Dean. He pushed away from his father, from the doctor and ran into Sammy's room. He stopped. _He's alive. _His knees buckled and he nearly fell. _He's alive. _He stumbled over to the bed, listening the whole time to the comforting_beep_, the tiny music of life playing in the room. The soft hiss of the air, Sam's chest rising and falling, dancing to the music, the sound whispering "life" over and over to Dean. He put his hand down on his brother's chest, away from the wound, away from the drain. There, under his hand, his brother was warm, he could feel his heart beating. Dean was aware that there were tears in his eyes, suddenly that didn't matter. The calm control of his father didn't matter. All that mattered was Sam. _He's alive, thank you Sammy, thank you._ The tears fell gently from his eyes, running down his cheeks.

"Dean?" His father said from behind him.

"Yeah, dad?" He could hear the emotion in his voice, in his father's.

"You did it, I think. You saved him."

Dean didn't turn, instead looking at his brother, knowing the truth there, "There was never any other choice, dad. You don't understand, maybe. If Sammy's gone, so am I."

"You don't mean that," John said walking to the bed to stand beside Dean.

"But I do, dad. There is never any option for me but saving him, never. Sammy dying is not an option. If he…" Dean stopped, wondering if he could put it into words, wondering if he even needed to. _I know, it's enough. _

"The doctor said they might be able to start weaning him off the ventilator as early as tomorrow morning. Oh, god Dean, I almost…You believed and I almost…" His father was crying, Dean reached out and pulled John against him, feeling his own tears, trying to comfort his father, listening to the soft sounds of life coming from the figure in the bed beside him.

"It's ok, dad." He was still holding his father, he took one hand away and dropped it gently on his brother, suddenly needing that contact to keep himself from shattering.

He was there, sixteen long hours later when Sam started to wake up. Dean heard his brother groan a little, saw his body try and fight the tube, he quickly stood and put his hand on Sam's forehead, gently stroking it with his thumb. "Relax, Sammy, I know it's scary, but you're ok." His brother's eyes focused on him. "You're ok, Sam." Dean swallowed, he knew the emotions of the last day were very apparent on his own face. He knew Sam saw them. There were tears on Sam's cheeks, Dean gently brushed them off, "Welcome back, little brother. It's going to be ok. You're going to be ok."

_He's going to be ok. I will be, too. Thank you for coming back to me, Sammy. Thank you. Please don't try and leave again._

**Thy brother languishes to death, and fades away**

**Present**

The hospital corridor formed around him again. He was still sitting beside Galen in that empty hallway. The door to Sam's room was open a little bit, a small shaft of light playing on the floor like a shimmering blade. Galen still had that arm over Dean's shoulders. Normally he would pull away, but he needed that weight to keep him there, to keep him in the chair. He felt like running, he felt like screaming. He was caught, trapped, the voices were screaming at him. And there were soft words whispering under the screams, relentless, drawing him into agony. The soft hiss telling him his brother was dead, driving him away from the memories, driving him towards the unthinkable. The soft sound saying "let him go." So soft, like velvet, but hard, sharp, cutting him, wounding him with an edge meant to kill.

"So, you were right, killing the thing released its hold on your brother?" Galen said, the sound of his voice surprising Dean a little. He had been so caught in the memories, in listening to those other voices, he had forgotten he was actually telling the older man the story.

"Yeah, killing it broke the poison, let Sam come back," Dean said with a sigh. "I just knew there had to be something wrong, you know? Sammy is strong, he doesn't give up."

"Dean?" Galen said very gently. "Listen to what you said."

"What?"

"You said Sam didn't give up."

"He doesn't, he wouldn't!" Dean snapped angry, pulling out from under the arm and standing, striding away. _He wouldn't give up. Would you? You wouldn't give up, would you, Sam? What do I do? I need to know._

Galen stood and walked over to Dean. "I think there is something going on now, like before. Something else causing all of this, Dean. I think that's why you have been remembering. Your subconscious has brought this up, that's why you can't stop it, you know the answers might be there somewhere. It's kind of like the vision quest of a shaman, finding truth in the shapes of the past, in the sounds of the voices no one else can hear. You need to listen to those voices, hear what they are telling you, listen to your brother."

_He's right, I think he's right. Somehow I am trying to find an answer here in what happened then. Sam will think I'm nuts for even thinking that. _Dean looked at him, eyebrows up, "You have no idea how crazy that sounded."

"I probably do, but it is also true, and I think you know that."

"But what? I killed that thing, it's not that causing all of this, what could it be?"

Galen looked at him, his eyes haunted, full of grief. The older man's shoulders sagged, it reminded Dean of his father for an instant, that defeated look. "I…I think…"

"What is it?" Dean said, suddenly concerned for Galen. _I need to get back to Sam, I need to know what's going on. What is he talking about? No, I need to get back to Sam._

"I think it might be Lacey, Dean."

"What?"

"I think it might be Lacey, I think she is causing all of this. I think she might be causing the ghost sickness, the power failures, all of it." Galen looked away swallowing "Oh, god, do you think she actually killed people?"

"You think she…? And that's what is going on with Sam?" _If that's true there is something I can fight, something I can do to help him. Can I save him after all? Oh, god, please let that be possible. I can't go on without him. What did you say once, Sammy? About this job being so hard you needed something to believe in? For me that is…Just hang on long enough for me to figure this out._

"Dean?" Galen was looking at him. "You think that this could be possible?" His eyes were imploring Dean, begging him to say it wasn't true, knowing that it was.

"It might be," Dean said with a frown. "But why didn't I see it?"_Why? How could I miss this? Could she be messing with my mind? Could she be that voice…?_

Galen smiled gently and put the arm back around his shoulders. "I think it is completely understandable, Dean. Your brother is hurt, possibly dying, I think your distraction is understandable."

"No, it's something else. I swear I hear…And then the memories coming back. There is something….I need to figure this out, I need to talk to Sam." He walked away from Galen, back into Sam's room. He stopped by the door, listening, trying to hear something. _The voices only I can hear? And which voice will I hear? Mine, Sam's, that other one? Which voice? _He smirked a little. _That sounds a little nuts, Sam would have a field day with that. Oh, yeah Mr. I Have Visions giving me a hard time about hearing voices. Sam? You just hang around to tease me about that. You hear me, Sam?_

He forced himself across the floor towards the bed. His feet were dragging, he felt like he was moving through deep sand. It had seemed so clear in the hall, what he needed to do, but now here, the anguish fell down on him, crushing him beneath its weight, nearly driving him to the floor. _Oh, god, what do I do? What if it is all just wishful thinking? Needing something to kill, something to hunt, something I can solve? Sam? Can you help me? Am I just trying so hard to save you I'll clutch at straws like dad said? Or is even this moment influenced by Lacey? Is she effecting me even now? _He put his hand on his brother's head, his thumb gently stroking Sam's forehead, drawing some comfort from that small act, hoping Sam might too. "Sam?" He sighed, the tears were there in his voice, running out of him in those few words, but still held behind his eyes. "What do I do, Sammy? If I only knew what you wanted."

Dean tried to reach out to Sam, tried to hear the voice that was more familiar than his own. Suddenly pain slammed into him, filling him with red agony more terrible than he had ever known. His chest ached, he struggled to draw a breath, something was forcing air into him against his will, he was impaled, bleeding from a terrible wound. A wound that would never heal, pain that would keep him there forever, trapped in hell. Sam's voice was screaming, in pain, lost, hopeless, begging. _Dean, I need to go, please, let me go. Put a bullet in my head, just let this end._

Dean stumbled back from the pain, from that horrific scream and right at the edge of his awareness and only for the briefest fraction of an instant he thought he heard that other voice. It was laughing, full of malice. It had lost its power over him. He forced himself back to the bed and put a hand down on Sam's. _Please let that have been a hallucination. Please, don't let that be what Sam is…_"Oh, god, Sammy, no."

He thought he heard a whisper hiss "Time" and suddenly the door slammed closed. He snapped his head around to look and caught the form moving across the room. He was slammed against the wall. The floor came up fast and he was stunned, the wind knocked out of him, black spots dancing before his eyes. _No, Sam, I have to get to Sam. _He heard someone pounding on the door, Galen yelling for help. He forced himself up.

The machines were off, the sound of life, the note sustaining his brother had gone flat. He watched in horror as the breathing tube was pulled from Sam and he was torn from the bed and flung across the room. Dean heard a terrible laugh as he tried to get to Sam. She was trying to stop him, the drain tube in Sam's chest came out, Sam was bleeding. Dean struggled against what was holding him, forcing himself inch by inch to his brother. Sam was gasping for air, struggling to breathe, each tiny breath a pain-soaked heave, each time a little longer between and smaller.

_Oh god, no, not now when I'm here. Not when I finally understand. Let me help him Please let me help, let me get to him. Sammy hang on, please hang on. I have to get to him, I have to!_

"Sammy, hang on, I'm coming," Dean was nearly there. "Galen! Get in here, get the doctor!" He shouted. "Hurry! HURRY! Salt, find rock salt!"

He got to Sam. He rolled him over, _Ok, Sammy, mouth to mouth time, and no cracks later, ok? _He tried to start, but he was pushed back, Sam writhed in pain. "No, you don't get to do that. You try again and I let him die here, alone. You want that?" She laughed, a hard hysterical sound. "You want him to die like my sister? She didn't have me there, I couldn't help her. I'll let you be with him, but that's all. So much more than he deserves for killing my sister."

"No, please," Dean begged. _Hang on, let help get in here. _He could hear them hammering at the door trying to get in.

He crawled back to Sam. His brother's eyes were open a fraction. Dean pulled Sam up against him, hoping to let his brother breathe a little easier until help arrived. He wrapped his arms around his brother, holding him, willing him to hang on.

Sam took a gasping breath. "Sam, hang on help is coming, it's going to be ok." _No it's not, if they don't hurry, oh god Sammy hang on._

Sam took another breath. "It's ok, I'm here, I won't let you be alone, Sam. I'm here." _At least I'm here, at least he knows I'm here this time. Oh, god, Sam, you can't die like this again. You can't die like this, in my arms, and I am helpless to stop it. Please Sam, dying is not an option, never an option. Please hang on. Please, Sammy, please don't leave me alone._

Another gasping inhale, and on the exhale "Dean…" hardly a sound, just a gasp that only his brother would recognize.

"I know Sam, me too, little brother, me too." _Sam, don't leave. What will I do? It will be me without my geek-boy. Without you, Sam, and my life will be over. Even if the deal is off, even if I live fifty more years, I am dead today. _He put his head down against Sam's and held him tighter. The tears were suddenly there, burning his eyes, running down his cheeks, hot, like small tracks of acid. Small tears taking his heart out of him, taking away his life drop by drop. _Sam, please hang on. _They were hammering at the door, the frame was beginning to give way._Please hurry, but I don't think you'll make it. Please hang on. _

Another inhale and exhale, faint rasping, sighing out of Sam, deeper, longer and then nothing. _SAM! NO!_ Sam relaxed against him. "SAM! No, please, don't leave me. Please. Sammy?" There was nothing, no life, no light, no sound, his world was ended. Sam was gone.

_No, god, no, please no._

_I am dead today._

_**To Be Continued **_


	8. Chapter 8

**With What Life Remains**

**Chapter Eight**

_That we may there at length unravel all_

_This dark design, this mystery of fate_

_-Joseph Addison_

The pounding on the door was filling the room like a heartbeat, the walls vibrating in sympathy with the hammering blows. There was maniacal laughter coming from somewhere beside him. Lacey was moving back and forth, flitting around the room like a crazed firefly. Controlling the situation, keeping Dean from saving his brother. She was throwing things. The objects were smashing against the wall, shattering with a sharp sound that meant nothing. His world was silent. His world was dead. There was no sound in it, Sam was gone. There was no movement in it, Sam was gone. Nothing mattered any longer, Sam was gone.

Dean had his head down on his brother's, still holding him propped up so Sam could breathe easier, only Sam wasn't breathing. The tears that had been held back for so long were running Dean's face. He was trying to find his way back, he didn't want to. The memories of the last few months, the memories of a lifetime were playing in his head like the replay of a life in the instant of death.

The door suddenly exploded inward. Lacey shrieked and headed towards where Dean was holding his brother's body. He felt her trying to pull Sam away from him, trying to get to Dean, he felt water splash on his face and heard someone speaking in a foreign language. Lacey disappeared.

Hands were trying to pull Sam away from him, he reflexively held on until Galen's voice finally reached him, "Let them help Sam. Dean let go, they need to help Sam." The older man had squatted down beside Dean and had put his hand on Dean's back, reaching him through that touch. _How can they help him, he died, oh god, Galen he died. My brother is dead, what do I do? Sammy, what do I do?_

Dean looked up at him, and let go of Sam. His brother was pulled away from him. He suddenly realized he was standing outside the door to Sam's room covered in his brother's blood. Galen was standing beside him, an arm around his shoulders. "They'll think I did that, they'll think I…" Dean realized with horror, his fear reflected in his voice. _He's dead, they'll think I killed him._

"No they won't, Dean," Galen said.

"But…" Dean trailed off. "What happened to Lacey? We need to protect Sam!" _I can't protect him, he's dead, and it's my fault. I didn't protect him and now he's dead. My fault, my fault, my fault._

"She'll be gone for a while. It's not permanent, but she'll be gone for awhile," a female voice said. Dean looked over, Sister Anne was standing there with a grim smile on her face. "Holy water, rock salt and my grandmother's banishment. It'll work for a while, long enough to get your brother back to surgery, but you have to do something more permanent," the tiny nun said.

"What?" Dean said, still dazed by what had happened, still with his heart, his whole focus on Sam. _He's gone, what do I do? _

"You need to do something more permanent," Sister Anne continued, looking at him with gentle compassion. "Help her move on. Send her away. I don't know how to do that."

"What?" Dean was still lost, the words weren't making sense.

The tiny nun smiled up at him. "You do know how to do that, don't you, dear?"

Dean blinked at her, his focus finally coming back a little bit. "Uh…I…"

"It's ok," she said gently, putting a hand on his face. "We both deal in worlds most people don't believe in, let alone understand. I know. But you can help your brother and so many other people here. I've done my best, but I can't get rid of her, maybe you can?"

_I can't help Sam, he's dead. I can avenge Sam, yes, it won't help him but it might help someone else. He would want me to help the other people here. Sam, why did you leave? Please, Sammy, don't be gone. Oh, god, he's dead, what will I do?_

"Dean?" Galen said. Dean realized he had been staring into space.

"What?" _Leave me alone. Let me grieve, my brother is dead. Sam, oh, god Sam, what do I do?_

"Can you help? Get rid of Lacey?" Galen said, Sister Anne was watching him too.

"Yeah, give me a minute." _My life is over, can't this wait, oh god, I can't hunt, not yet, give me a minute._

"You don't have that much time," Sister Anne. "My little trick will only keep her gone for an hour or so. You need to get to it quickly. Your brother will be first when she gets back."

_What can she do to Sam? He's dead, she can't hurt him again. He's dead. Sam's gone._ "Give me a minute," he repeated. _Did she know Lacey was here this whole time? Why didn't she say something? Did she think I wouldn't believe? Maybe there just hasn't been time? Not time enough to let my brother live? Sam…oh god._

"Dean?" Galen said shaking him a little, the warm arm still around his shoulders. Dean looked up, a middle aged woman in scrubs came out of Sam's room. Right behind her rolled a stretcher, carrying Sam's unmoving body, it was rushed down the corridor. Dean watched it go, not understanding. The woman in scrubs came over to him.

"Mr. Young?" She said.

"Yes?" _What is it now? Please just leave me alone. _

"Your brother needs surgery, we have to fix the damage. It is touch and go, and the likelihood of him dying on the table is very high, but we will try and do our best."

"What?" They were words, he was pretty sure of that, but he was also sure she was speaking in a foreign language, it didn't make sense.

"We have to fix the damage. It is serious at this point, all that damage, he is dying , but we are going to try our best to prevent that."

"What?" _What did she just say? Can I…Dare I ask? _"But Sam…Is he…?"

"What?" She said looking at him, trying to figure out what he was asking. He saw comprehension suddenly in her eyes. She reached out, her hand stopping before it actually touched him. A compassionate gesture nonetheless. "Your brother is alive."

Dean's knees buckled and he would have fallen had not Galen caught him. He sagged against the older man, tears in his eyes, hardly able to breathe. His heart was pounding, his hands were shaking, he leaned against Galen trying to get control of himself. He was shattering, his focus was completely lost. _He's alive. _He swallowed, still trying to get control. _He's alive. He's alive, oh, god she'll be back, I have to stop her. Sam, hang on, I have to stop her. You just hang on little brother, you hear me? No dying again. Never again, Sammy, not an option. _He forced himself up, his hands were still shaking, the doctor had waited patiently for him to regain his composure.

"He will be in surgery quite a while, I think. Maybe you should get something to eat." She smiled at him and walked down the hallway, following the path they had taken with Sam only minutes before.

"We need to fix this," Dean said, pulling away from Galen and looking from him to Sister Anne. _I can't leave Sam, I have to help Sam. _

"I'll stay close and keep an eye on your brother," Sister Anne said, smiling.

"I'm coming with you," Galen said quietly.

"Why didn't you mention this before?" He asked the nun.

"I didn't want you to think I was a crazy old nun," she said, smiling. "Galen spoke with me about it just minutes ago. I never realized that he knew the poor dear, and that your brother was involved, or I would have been here guarding the door from the beginning. Sometimes the hospital thinks I'm a little strange, but they all fear my habit." She laughed, it was like a tinkling bell. "You go now." She shoved him gently towards the elevators.

_I need to stay with Sam. No, I can't do anything here right now. I could only wait. I can help if I go. I can find Lacey and end this. Ok, I do need to go, I'll be back Sam, you just wait till I get back, understand me?_ "Ok, you're right, I do need to go. I need to get back to my car," he looked at Galen. The professor nodded. Dean wrote out his cell number and handed it to Sister Anne and walked with Galen out of the hospital.

It was cool outside, crisp, the soft scent of moisture filled the air. Dawn was coming, the sun beginning its ascent, it was the time of day when light objects took on a special glow, brighter than they were at midday. The parking lot was shrouded in a soft mist, obscuring the cars, beads of dew sliding slowly down the lampposts. It was quiet, the sounds of the day not yet begun, the soft calls that filled the night silenced by the rising sun. All was held hushed under the soft gray blanket.

Dean followed Galen to the car. He glanced up at the windows on the third floor, knowing Sam wasn't still in the room, but needing that moment of focus. He got in the car and Galen headed out of town and up the long hill to where Dean had left the Impala. The mist was thinner there, Dean could see the first hints of blue sky above the ground-hugging clouds. Galen pulled in beside the Impala and got out with Dean, looking across the road with an expression of pain and grief Dean recognized. He had first seen it so many years before, the night his mother had died, and every time his father had thought of her over the years. He had seen it on his father's face when he thought that Sam had died, he knew it had been carved on his own face less than an hour before. Dean walked to the older man and stood beside him.

"Is this where?"

"Yes, they found my wife over the hill here. I always stop for a minute whenever I'm here, just to think of her, let her know I still love her," Galen said quietly. Dean looked at him, Galen's eyes were bright as he looked across the road. He cleared his throat. "Alright, what's our game plan?"

"I need to know where Lacey is," Dean said getting into the car. Galen slid into the passenger seat and looked over at Dean.

"What do you mean?"

"Where is she buried?" Dean said. _And please don't tell me you had her cremated. _

"At the cemetery, the pioneer cemetery at the far end of town," Galen said.

"Good."

"Why?"

"We need to dig her up and salt and burn her bones," Dean glanced over and saw the look of anguish that flitted briefly across Galen's face. "I'm sorry, it's the only way. She isn't the Lacey you knew anymore, this is the only way to help her, to let her rest."

"I understand, it's just…"

"I know. It sounds easier than it is, she will probably show up and be a little angry about it all. I'll do my best to distract her, but you might need to help. Sometimes spirits get a little touchy about getting torched."

Dean drove the Impala back through town and followed Galen's directions to the cemetery where Lacey was buried. It looked almost like a movie set. _Great, who designed this place? Creepy Cemeteries R Us? _There were ancient trees, huge twisted trunks, black in the misty morning, reaching gnarled fingers over the gravestones. The stones themselves were all gray and black granite, monoliths marking the passage of a life. Dean got out of the car and opened the trunk. He handed the salt to Galen and grabbed the shovels, gas and his shotgun, carefully stowing several extra shells in his pocket.

He followed Galen as the professor led the way deep into the cemetery. Some of the trees had the remnants of apples on them, shriveled, some gnawed by squirrels, the bite marks black wounds on the yellow and red fruit. The grass still had the color of life, it wasn't as well maintained as most modern cemeteries, in many places the grass had grown long, brushing the names of the dead on the dark stones.

They finally stopped in front of Lacey's grave. It had already taken on the look of gentle neglect of the rest of the cemetery. There was a freshly dug grave besides it, the empty space waiting for Lacey's sister. Galen was standing, looking down at the stone, a look of deep regret and loss on his face. Dean handed the professor a shovel, he carefully put the gas and salt within easy reach and then they started excavating the grave.

It was quiet, the only sounds those of the birds and the sharp noise of the shovels moving aside the earth covering Lacey's grave. Dean was alert, even a little tense, listening for any indication of her. He guessed that as much as she would want to exact her revenge on his brother, she would come here first, to stop him. To save what life remained to her. It was a relief, it made him just the tiniest bit nervous. _Vengeful spirits are always so much fun. _He was also keeping an eye on Galen, the closer they got to the coffin the stiffer, more reluctant, the man became. Dean understood, it was always hard digging someone's grave, worse if you knew them. _And hardly your typical day's work for most people._

Dean's shovel finally made contact with the coffin. He tried driving the shovel through the top, the coffin was still to new to break that easily. He dug a little further, planning to open it and expose the body that way. Galen was working at the foot of the coffin, trying to get the last bits of soil off so they could finish what they had come to do.

"What do you think you are doing?" A voice hissed at Dean. He looked up, Lacey was there looking down at them.

"Sending you to a better place," Dean snapped.

"I like it here," she hissed at him.

"Well, too bad, you have to go." _Great, am I arguing with her? Just freaking great. When this is over, Sam, I think I need a vacation. You just stay there, you hear me Sam? I'll be back soon._

"No!" She shouted, it was a venomous sound.

Dean looked up in time to see the gravestone start to tip over. "Dean!" Galen shouted and pulled him away as the stone toppled into the hole. They landed in a heap by the foot of the coffin.

"Thanks," Dean pulled himself up and looked at the heavy stone, now lying on top the coffin lid. It hadn't broken through, instead effectively sealing it closed. "Where did they get this thing? Best made one I've ever seen." He took his shovel and used it as a lever to try and move the stone far enough to get the coffin open to salt and burn her. It hardly budged. _Come on, move damn it. I have to get back, I need to be with Sam. You hang on, Sam, you hear me? I'll coming back, you just hang on._

A rock hit him on the head and he saw stars. _Great, the bitch is throwing things again. _He pulled himself up out of the hole and held a hand down to help Galen. "We need to distract her long enough to take care of this," Dean said to him. Galen nodded.

Lacey appeared in front of them, ethereal, malicious. She looked at Galen, "Your fault. Everyone your touch suffers, everyone you touch dies," she said. Dean looked over at Galen, the man looked as if she had struck him.

"No, Lacey, you need to let go, you need to stop what you are doing," Galen said walking towards her, his hand held out in a gesture of forgiveness.

"When I'm done here, you die, he dies and the brother who killed Susanna dies."

"No, Lacey, no." Galen was still walking towards her.

Dean took the chance and grabbed the salt and gasoline and dropped back into the grave. He heard Lacey shouting, he heard something else, something that concerned him. She had hurt Galen somehow, he was sure of it. Dean could no longer hear the gentle cajoling voice. _She'll come for me now._ He grabbed the shovel and started trying to lever the lid open. It wouldn't budge. He shifted in the hole, another rock connected with him, hard, hitting him in the right shoulder. The shovel dropped from his hand. He picked it up again and started back in on the coffin. If he could just get the lower half to move a tiny bit, the heavy stone was resting mostly at the head.

A noise behind him made him pause. She was there with him in that confined space. He saw the shovel Galen had been using move. _Oh, no. _He ducked as she swung at him, catching him on the back instead of the head. He felt the lid begin to give way. She swung again, that time he was a little too slow and it caught him on the side of the head. He went down and rolled just in time to avoid what she had intended as the killing blow. Pushing himself up he finally got the lid open about six inches, far enough to get the salt in. He threw it over her body. She him hit again, the blow driving him down, his hand now trapped in the coffin. _Shit._

She laughed. She stood looking at him, satisfaction on her face. She was waiting, letting him suffer. "This is good, a little pain before you die, like your brother. I did that you know."

"Did what?" Dean said, hoping to distract her long enough to get his hand free, long enough to get the gasoline so he could light the blaze. _Hang on Sam. _

"Took the pain meds away," she said softly, a hissing sound of near pleasure.

"What?" _What is she talking about? Oh, my god, no. Sammy, oh god, no._

"Your brother, I took it away. He was aware that whole time, begging you to let him die, suffering like my sister. I took all the comfort away till all he was, all he knew was the pain. And he knew it could go on like that forever. Never ending, trapped, in pain, unable to talk, unable to move, just lying there, dead, wishing for release."

"Bitch," Dean said still trying to wiggle his hand free. _Sam? I'm so sorry, I didn't know. Oh, god, Sammy, I'm so sorry. You just hang on, it will be ok. I promise._

She smiled and drifted towards him, "Yes I guess so," the shovel went up for the final blow. And she suddenly exploded away in a spray of rock salt, the report of the shotgun echoing through the cemetery. Dean looked up. Galen was standing at the edge of the grave, bleeding, holding the shotgun.

"Can you finish it?" Galen said, swaying on his feet.

"Give me just a second more, if she comes back blast her again." Dean grabbed his shovel again and levered the lid up sliding his hand free from the imprisoning coffin. He glanced very briefly at the wrist. _Wow, that's a mess. _He poured gasoline through the small opening and pulled a box of matches out of his pocket. _Ok, brilliant, how do you do this? _He lit the box with his lighter and tossed it in the coffin. He shoved a rock in the lid to hold it open so there would be enough air to keep the fire going and then pulled himself up with this left hand. His wrist was already bruised and swelling from where the coffin lid had held it immobile.

She appeared again. Screaming, coming towards them, then bursting outward in a ball of flame. Dean and Galen watched as the coffin caught, the last of the funeral pyre burning, sending black smoke, wisps marking the final release of Lacey, into the sky.

Galen suddenly collapsed beside him. Dean looked down, the older man was injured, badly injured. She had managed to drive a branch into his shoulder, the wound bleeding heavily, the red stain growing rapidly on his shirt. Dean pulled him up and carried him to the car. Racing back towards the hospital, trying to save Galen's life, needing to know if they had saved Sam's.

The emergency room was surprisingly quiet. They rushed Galen away and someone came and checked on Dean's injuries. He must have lost consciousness, or at least awareness, for a moment. In that time they had wrapped his wrist and put an ice pack on it. Someone looked at the gash on the side of his head. He kept trying to get away, he needed to know how Sam was, he needed to check on Galen. It had reached a point of complete panic when Sister Anne appeared. They were just finishing the stitches in his scalp and she stood and watched. _Why are they bothering with this, I'm fine, I need to get back to Sam. I need to know how Sam is. Please, can someone tell me if…?_

"Sam is still in surgery, Dean," she said, coming over and putting a hand on his arm.

"Is he, do you know if…?" _Please tell me he'll be ok, please say he'll be ok._

"No, I haven't heard anything," her eyes slid briefly from his, he knew she was lying, or at least bending the truth. He knew what that meant. _Sam is still in danger. I know she'd tell me if he had died, but he must still be barely holding on. He is still dying. _"I did check on Galen, he will be fine, they are moving him to a room overnight, but he will be fine. And Lacey?"

"Gone." _What about my brother? Sam, you just stay, you hear me? No dying. _

"Let me take you up to Galen's room, you can wait there, I'll let them know that's where you will be," Sister Anne took his hand and led him, like a child, through the hospital. He followed, still grieving, still aching, exhausted, as she pulled him gently through the halls. _You don't get to die again, Sammy, you hear me? You just come through this and stay. Oh, god, Sam, please, please don't leave me. I can't lose you again, Sam. It will kill me. Please don't leave me, little brother, please._

When they reached Galen's room she took him inside and quietly slipped away with her floating steps. Dean smiled at Galen. "How are you?"

"Happy they have good drugs," Galen said with a lopsided grin. "She did quite a number on me."

"Sorry about that," Dean said and dropped into the visitor's chair beside the bed.

"It's ok. Sam?"

"Still in surgery. It must be pretty bad, Sister Anne looked away and I think she might have lied to me a bit."

"A nun?"

"I think she thought it was for my own good, but nuns lying Galen? Never a good thing, never." Dean smiled a little. "Is it ok if I wait in here?" _Please let me wait here, I can't be alone. Sam, did you hear that? I can't be alone. You just stay. No dying, Sam. You need to be here, don't leave me alone._

"Of course it is," Galen said. He reached a hand over the bedrail and put it on Dean. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Thank you," Dean said, surprised at how much the support meant, at how much he needed it. "I wonder how long it will be?"

He leaned back in the chair, waiting. The minutes passed by, each slower, the second hand ticking loudly in the quiet room, becoming a physical sensation he flinched from, a pain like a pulse beating against his heart.

_How long, how long?_

_Please, is he dead or alive? How long will I have to wait to know?_

_Sam? Sam don't leave, stay. I need you here, don't you dare leave again._

_Dying is not an option, Sammy, never an option._

And the minutes ticked by, and still he waited.

_**To Be Continued**_


	9. Chapter 9

**With What Life Remains**

**Chapter Nine**

_Why wilt thou add to all the griefs I suffer? …_

_I will indulge my sorrows, and give way_

_To all the pangs and fury of despair._

_Hope, and fear and grief… with variety of pain distract me._

_-Joseph Addison_

This part of the hospital was noisy, people walking up and down the hallway with bouquets of balloons and plush animals. Families with small children wandered in and out of the rooms, visiting, bringing cheer. Hope walked this corridor, unlike the hush upstairs, unlike the quiet that Sam had been held in. Life reigned here, not the cold hand of death. Laughter drifted down the hallway, the tones harsh, grating on his already strained nerves, his mind begging them to stop, how could laughter go on when Sam's fate sill hung in the balance.

Dean sighed. The room was quiet. Galen had succumbed to the pain medication and was sleeping, snoring softly. He had tried to stay awake, talking gently with Dean, but finally his eyes had drifted closed and the pauses between words became longer and longer, then silence. Galen's hand was still thrust over the bedrail, resting on Dean's arm, he hadn't moved it when the older man had drifted off, somehow that small point of contact was keeping him more centered than he ever dreamed it could. The small warmth a touch of life in a world full of cold, of death.

He was still waiting, watching the clock as the hands moved lazily around, not recognizing his anxiety. Time passed and still no word. He had no idea how long it had actually been. He had been sitting in the room with Galen for two hours, maybe a little more. _But how much time do they need? How much damage did she do? Sam? You just hang on till they are done, and then I'll be there. You just hang on, no dying, Sammy. You know I hate waiting, Sam, I'm not very good at it, am I? I never was, at least not when…Sam, you need to just come through this…_

"Have you heard anything?" Galen asked suddenly.

"No, no one has even come in," Dean said looking over at the bed. "I'm not sure this is one of those no news is good news situations."

"Waiting is hard," Galen said softly.

"Yes." Dean laughed bitterly. "I'm not very good at it. Waiting. At least not when it comes to Sam."

"You say that like you've had experience with it."

"Too damn much, Galen. And it never gets easier, I think it actually gets harder because you know what's coming, the fear, the waiting," he scrubbed his hands across his face. "Although surprisingly Sam hasn't had as many close calls as you'd think, considering what we do."

"Which makes it that much harder, son, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, and the worst is like this, when I can't be with him, can't know what's happening or what happened. And so much of what we deal with is things that doctors can't really help with, spells, venom, death creature's claws, demons, things that can kill and there is nothing they can do about it."

"Like when he was fifteen?"

"Like that hunt, yeah. And then the waiting. That time it really wasn't all that long, in actual time and I was there, I could do something about it, you know. Not like this, not helpless like…"

_Dean, I need you to promise me something._

And suddenly, out of nowhere, another memory, another dark warm chapel, another wait for the verdict on his brother's life. Galen sensed the change in him, he must have felt the tensing of his muscles as he fought the memories down. Galen tightened his hand on Dean shoulder. _Not now. I don't need this now. Why is this happening? Why are all the memories coming back? Will I have to relive every time…Oh, god, no, please no. I can't. _He sat up, hoping to force the memory away.

_I know what they told you and dad, you know, Dean._

"Dean?" He said gently.

"Yeah?" Dean answered through clenched teeth, fighting the memory back, away from him.

_I can't live like this, Dean, I won't._

"What is it?"

"I…" He swallowed. "I…I don't know."

_So I need you to promise me something._

"You know I teach anthro, did you know my specialty is cross-cultural religious and healing practices? Most cultures believe that memory or vision quest exists for a reason. It is not a random event. It is called out of us when it is needed, like your memories of when Sam was fifteen. Are you remembering something?"

_Sammy, what?_

"Dean?" Galen said again, his voice gentle, but somehow demanding an answer, coaxing the past from Dean, inexorably, firmly pulling the bitter memory out into the light.

"I…he was seventeen…" Dean took a deep breath. _I can't, not now, this won't help. Stop, oh, god, please stop._

"And?" Again, so gentle, but somehow forcing the memory out of him.

_It will be hard for you, I know, Dean._

"I was away, working, and dad called…" _NO! _He gritted his teeth, swallowing hard, trying to force it away.

Galen looked at him, sudden comprehension in his eyes. "Dean? Is this why?"

_Sammy, what?_

"Why what?" He snapped, forcing those days away from him.

"Earlier, when they were trying to get you to make a decision. You never asked if he were brain dead, never worried about that, no you asked and were worried about whether or not your brother was suffering. I'd almost say you were feeling guilty about something, something to do with that."

_Dean…his brother put a trembling hand over his._

"Yeah," he said, the word sighing out of him.

"What is it? Why was that…?" Galen shifted so his hand was more firmly on his shoulder, offering support, giving Dean an anchor.

"I promised. A long time ago. I promised." He felt tears at the edge of his eyes. _No, no, not this. Sam, why did you make me…? And again last year, although that was entirely different and I could ignore that._

"Dean. Tell me. There is a reason this is coming back, maybe to help you?"

_Oh, god, no, not that, please._ "I don't know…"

"Dean, tell me," he said gently, squeezing his shoulder. "It's ok, tell me."

_Dean, I need you to promise…_

"I, Sam was seventeen and…" He swallowed, pushing the tears away as those moments came back full force. His panic, his fear, Sam…Different than when he was fifteen, so very different.

"Dean?" Galen was looking at him, frowning in concern. "What is it?"

He let it happen. Dean let the memory rise up and carry him away. _Galen was right before, he must be right now._ Those moments pulled at him, clawing, dragging him away to that instant of pain, of decision.

**A Brother's suffering claims a brother's pity**

Past

The phone was ringing. It would stop and then start again. Like most motel phones it had a slightly off-key bell that was annoying. Especially when it was grating against a hangover. The phone stopped again. Dean sighed in relief and it started in again. It rang twelve times that time and then stopped. He rolled over and sat up, scrubbing his hands across his face. He had gotten in late after finishing a very straightforward hunt his father had sent him out solo on. It was actually the first time he had been on his own, and even though it had been a very simple salt and burn it still felt good.

Of course drinking himself into the state he was in the night before and going home with Mandy? Candy? Tandy? had not been a very mature idea. He groaned. _And now I'm paying for it, nice. Lovely plan there, brilliant. Maybe next time just hit yourself with something, easier and no bad perfume. _

The phone started in again, insistent, almost sounding angry. It rang fifteen times then stopped. _Ok, who could that be? No one knows where I am…except dad. But why would he…_The phone started again. _I bet he and Sammy had another fight and Sammy ran again. Just great. I can't leave the two of them alone for ten seconds. _He grabbed it.

"What?" He nearly shouted, angry that it had been ringing, angry at his father and his brother and suddenly frightened for no reason he could put a finger on.

"Dean?" His father, and Dean's heart stopped. He recognized the emotion in John's voice. Fear. Cold, soul-shattering fear. He had only heard it once or twice in all his life. His father was terrified of something.

"Dad? What?" Dean felt his father's fear reaching through the phone tangible, touchable. And he knew what it was and he didn't want to ask, but he had to know. "Sammy?"

"Your brother…"

"Dead?" The word snapped out of him like a gunshot. _Not an option._

"No."

"Hospital?" _Please say no, please say no._

"Yes."

"How bad is Sammy? Is he dying, dad? How bad is it?" _Please tell me._

"When can you get here?"

_Did he just evade my question? He did, Sammy's not dead, but it's bad, it has to be for that kind of evasion._ "As soon as I can, leaving right now, sir." He dropped the phone onto the cradle and was out the door, he heard the phone ringing as it slammed behind him.

Four hours later he pulled into the parking lot at the hospital in the town where he had left his father and brother. He parked in a spot that said "reserved for staff" not caring in that instant whether the car was towed or not. He had reached the point of complete panic about two hours before, not knowing, but remembering the fear in their father's voice. His heart rate was up and he was breathing fast. He knew if he didn't rein it in he would have a full-blown panic attack. _And that won't do anyone any good. _

He ran into the hospital and stopped, trying to calm himself before walking to the information desk. "My name is Dean, my brother, Sammy—uh Sam—was admitted I guess and my father called me." _I have no idea what name dad used, I probably should have waited till I got that information. _

"Oh, I have a note here about you," the silver-haired woman smiled at him. "Sam MacGregor, right?" Dean nodded, hoping that was the right Sam. "He's upstairs, room 335." She frowned a little, Dean saw compassion, maybe pity in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, dear."

"What?" Dean had turned to the elevators, but turned back to her. "What did you say?"

"Oh, dear me, I shouldn't have said anything, you just got here," she looked genuinely distressed.

Dean walked over and patted her hand. _I wonder if she will tell me, dad might not be honest, can I get her to talk to me? _He tried smiling his best smile at her. "It's ok, you can tell me, I'm going up in just a minute anyway."

"Oh, it's just the poor thing. I'm a chaplain here too and I was in there this morning," she patted at her eyes with a tissue. "It's just so terrible to see that happening to someone so young."

_Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. _"What?" Still smiling. _Maybe that will keep me from screaming. Clench the teeth and keep smiling. Sammy? Oh, god, what now? Sam, please, you are supposed to be ok when I leave remember? Didn't I talk to you about that? _

"It's just so terrible you know?" She seemed stuck on that, Dean was pretty sure he wouldn't get anymore from her, so he patted her hand again and walked to the elevators.

_She was upset, why? Mostly those people are so calm, and that worries me. What is wrong with my brother? Why didn't dad call before? _The elevator door opened and he followed the signs to 335. Walking pass the nurses' station, barely registering the pretty blonde behind the computer. The door was partially closed, he heard the TV playing, it sounded like Scooby Doo. He pushed the door open. His father was sitting beside the bed. They didn't notice his entrance so he stood for a moment trying to get a handle on the situation.

His father was sitting, looking at the TV. He was stiff, his eyes, Dean knew, were not focused on Velma and Fred, but inward at the pain he was struggling with. He had a cup of coffee in his hands, Dean could smell the stale-rancid smell of bad coffee grown cold. His brother was on the bed, white-faced, an IV snaking into his arm. Sam was rigid, his body taut, fighting something unseen. His eyes were closed, turned away from the world, like he was already removing himself from it.

Dean walked quietly in, his footsteps silent on the tiled floor. His father looked up, not registering his presence, just noticing someone had come in. Dean put his hand on his father's shoulders, John looked again, focusing on him and smiled, a sad, lost smile. _Oh no, not that bad? _His father didn't say anything, Dean took the last step to the bed and put his hand down on his brother's arm, feeling the tension in the muscles.

"Sammy?" He said softly.

Sam's eyes opened and turned to him. They were bloodshot as if from tears. "Dean?" The pain in his voice was so present Dean could feel it radiating out of his brother into him. "You're here?"

"Yeah, Sammy, where else?" He smiled down at him, willing the tears in his own eyes away.

"Glad you're here," the words were taking a lot of effort. It was killing his brother just to talk.

"What happened?" Dean said to his father, sharp, authoritarian. It sounded, to his ears, a lot like John when their father was in a drill sergeant mood.

"Hunt gone wrong," John shook his head, lost. His father stood and looked at him, Dean saw his brother's death in those eyes. _Oh, god no. Sammy._ "I'm going to get some coffee. Didn't want to leave until you got here." Dean watched as his father ran out of the room.

"Must need coffee pretty bad," Dean said with a laugh, taking off his jacket and then standing back by the bed. On sudden impulse he settled on the edge of the bed, letting his leg rest against his brother. "Dad and his coffee, you know Sammy."

"Yeah, always coffee," Sam smiled a little. A tear ran out of his eye and trickled down his cheek, he didn't seem to notice it.

"Sorry I meant to be back last night…" _But I managed to get drunk and went home with Shandy? Randi? Sandy? I know it was something andy, I think._

"Was she hot?" The words were forced out of Sam with a little roll of the eyes.

Dean laughed, trying to make it sound normal, "I think so, Sammy, but I might have had a bit too much to drink."

"Can't remember her name?" Sam was teasing him. His body was so tight, unmoving, his voice full of pain and still teasing Dean.

"Nope. At least she didn't come back to the room with me, that would have been awkward come morning."

"It always is when you can't remember their names."

"It's only happened once or twice, maybe three times." He said smiling at his brother.

"This month."

"Sammy, Sammy, you make me sound like a total slu…Yeah dad?" He said his father was waving him out of the room. "I'll be right back Sammy, ok?"

"Sure."

Dean walked out into the corridor, his father was standing with a very tall woman. She had an air of authority about her that screamed "physician." There was just something about her, the weight of years of experience or the life and death she witnessed every day, but the authority had a calm to it. _And for all that white hair, still pretty hot. What is wrong with me? _He shook his head at the thought and stood beside his father. John's shoulders were hunched, Dean put an arm around him.

"Tell my son what you told me, please," his father said to the white-haired woman.

She smiled gently at him, "I'm Dr. Menzies, I have been trying to help your brother."

"Trying?"

"We are not sure what is going on with him, his body is deteriorating rather rapidly, we can't seem to find a cause, or a way to stop it."

"What are you telling me?" Dean said. _Oh, god, Sammy. I think she just said you are dying. I thought we talked about that a few years ago. Dying is not an option, Sammy. I told dad, I told you. Not an option._

"He is in tremendous pain and we are doing our best to ease that, but it will continue until his body gives out. And even then…"

"What?" He understood what she was telling him. _Oh, god, no, worse than dying._ "He'll be alive, in pain? But not able to…he'll just suffer? Indefinitely?"

"Well, until his body just fails."

"So he'll be alive, but dead?"

"Well I guess technically that is one way of putting it. Not very medically correct, but one way of putting it. We are trying to make him as comfortable as possible and we are looking for the cause, we just don't know where to go from here." She smiled at him. "Do you have any question?"

"How long?" Dean heard his voice, it was calm, even cold. _I managed to sound calm, too bad I'm screaming inside._

"We don't really know, sorry." She reached over hand touched his father briefly on the arm before turning and walking away from them.

_Ok, dad, time to tell me. What the hell did you let Sammy walk into? How the hell did this happen. I'm gone for three damn days and I come back to this? Well dad? YOU WANT TO TELL ME NOW? OR SHOULD I JUST BEAT IT OUT OF YOU? _He took a deep steadying breath, the words still screaming in his head, his arm still gently over his father's shoulder. "Dad? What happened to Sammy?"

"Demonic ritual, he stumbled into it, I think. It might be a spell or something left over from that," his father said quietly to the floor.

"Have you called Bobby?" His voice was so calm. _I did it, I think I finally managed that calm. Well at least in the voice, if I can't kill something soon though, violence will erupt._

"Bobby?" His father sounded like a lost child.

"Yeah, Bobby, go call him and see if there is anything we can do, I'll sit with Sammy till you get back, ok?" Dean squeezed his father's shoulder and shoved him towards the elevators. "The is a phone down by the hall to the cafeteria, I saw it on the way up. Go." He gave him another shove and his father sort of stumbled away from him, John got into the elevator without looking back.

Dean sighed, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and walked back into his brother's room. Sam's eyes were closed, his face a mask of pain. The agony was etched on his face so clearly it took Dean's breath away. He settled on the bed again. _I hope this doesn't make it worse. _He could feel Sam trembling, the whole bed was shaking a tiny bit. Dean put his leg against Sam.

"Hey," he said softly, not wanting to wake his brother if he had managed to go to sleep.

Sam's eyes opened. "Hey," he said.

"Dad went off to get some good coffee, and call Bobby, he'll be back in a bit."

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Dean, I need you to promise me something."

"What is it Sammy? I won't leave. I'll be right here. What?" He said hoping that was it, that his brother was just worried he'd leave.

"I know what they told you and dad, you know, Dean," Sam said the words taking an effort that was killing Dean to watch. "I can't live like this, Dean, I won't."

"Don't talk, ok. I'm right here." _Sammy, not an option, ok, not an option._

"So I need you to promise me something."

"Sammy, what?" _What Sam, what is it? Oh, god Sam, please don't say it._

"It will be hard for you, I know, Dean," Sam took a deep breath, obviously fighting the pain.

"Sammy, what?" Dean looked at his brother, hoping that the promise wouldn't be…

"Dean…" His brother put a trembling hand over his. "I know what they say, and if dad and Bobby can't solve it, Dean, please don't let me live like this."

"What?" He said purposefully misunderstanding his brother's words, willing them back into Sam. _NO! Please, no, don't ask._

"Alive, my mind trapped in this body, suffering, not able to communicate, just held here forever, no Dean. I know it will be hard for you, but if…I need you to promise me Dean. Please."

Dean looked at his brother, he knew the tears were in his eyes. Sam was looking at him pleading, begging him. Suddenly it was too much, before he realized what he was doing he had thrown himself from the bed and out of the room. He was down the hallway before he even noticed he was no longer on the bed. The door at the end of the hall said "chapel" Dean walked towards it. Opening the door he found it dark, empty, a tiny light at the front under the stark wooden cross. _Never fails, always empty. _He slid down in the corner away from the door. _Of course dad will know where to find me, I always end up in the chapel. I wonder why? They are always warm, dark and empty, I guess. I like the ones with candles and statues better I think. They have a different smell or something. Am I thinking about chapels when my brother just asked me to…and I ran away from him._

He leaned his head against the wall, trying to calm his breathing, trying to stop the tears. He tried not to cry, but somehow the tears always caught him at a vulnerable moment. _If Sammy knew how many times I cried, he'd laugh at me, just laugh. No he wouldn't he might tease me gently but Sammy wouldn't laugh at me. _He closed his eyes trying to block out the image of his brother on that bed, Trying to stop the sound of his voice, so full of pain it actually effected Dean physically. _Oh, god, what do I do? What do I do? You can't leave me, dying is not an option. Sammy I can't, please, don't ask me. But you already did, what would I want? _He sighed and pushed himself up, the tears still running down his face and walked back to his brother's room.

He forced himself to the bed. "Sammy? I'm sorry," He sat back on the bed and brushed the tears off his brother's face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left like that." He put a hand on Sam's chest. "Sam…"

"Dean…" Sam took a breath, preparing to say something more.

"No, wait, you can.not.ever. tease me about his ok?" Sam looked at him with a confused frown and nodded, waiting. Dean leaned forward and pulled his brother up into his arms. He held Sam against him, offering comfort, but at the same time trying to get a feel for what was going on. He could sense the terrible tension in Sam's muscles as he fought the pain, _Actually agony, he has never felt like this through a hundred illnesses and several close calls._

His brother was trembling, his body reacting to whatever was happening. Dean was starting to get an idea of what his brother was suffering, the intensity of that pain was making itself known to him, he could feel just the very edge of it through that contact with Sam. _And this is supernatural in origin. That means he could go on like this forever. His body might not just give out like the doctor thinks, this could go one forever. I can't let that happen, oh god. This is horrible._ He felt his brother's arms go around him, Sam's hands were shaking, he let his head fall against Dean's shoulder for a moment. Dean gently squeezed him and lowered him gently to the bed. _Oh, god, how can he even stand that pain now? Let alone if this goes on for a day or, no, for more than that? _He put his hand back down on his brother's chest.

"Dean?"

"No, it's ok." The tears were flowing down his face, he didn't bother to try and hide them from Sam. "Let Bobby and dad try and figure this out, ok?" _Please, Sammy, just give me time, ok. If they can't figure it out, I can, please Sammy._

"Dean…"

"No, Sammy, I understand, now, I do. And if they can't, oh god," he looked away. _If I promise it will help him, I can figure a way out of this, but it will give him peace, knowing I understand. _Sam put a hand over his, where it resting on Sam's chest. "You have to give them time, I know, I understand, but you have to give them some time, but…Oh, god, Sammy," the tears were flowing without a break and it was hard to breathe suddenly, "I promise. I don't know how I can, but I will, as painless as I can manage, Sammy."

"Just put a bullet in my head, Dean, that will work," Sam said, some of the tension in his chest relaxing a little. _I knew the promise would help him, I knew it._

"I don't know about that, but I'll be here, I won't leave you alone, no matter what, and I promise."

"Forever promise, Dean?" Sounding suddenly like his five-year-old self asking his older brother to promise about something important like ice cream on his birthdays for as long as he lived.

"Forever promise, little brother," Dean said. _But we'll figure this out, I know we will. Please, Sam, let us figure this out. _He sat with Sam until his brother seemed to drop into an uneasy sleep. He wandered out in the hall. His father still wasn't back. _Ten minutes, I need to be back, no longer than ten minutes. But I have to get it before dad gets back. _He slipped silently through the hospital, years of hunting had given him the ability to be invisible if he needed, and no lock was safe from him, no matter how complicated. He was back in his brother's room with what he had gone looking for seven minutes later. Sam watched him walk in.

"Weren't really asleep were you?"

"No, I can't, won't let me, where did you go?" Sam was whispering, it seemed to take less effort.

"Coffee."

"You forgot to bring it back with you," Sam said with a smile.

Dean sat back on the bed. "Forgetful today, I guess, Sammy."

"Sure, Dean," he said. He knew what Dean had been doing, and he knew Dean knew he knew. It was there in his smile. "Did you get enough?"

"Enough for two people your size." _And how can I sound so calm, almost joking about this. _He sat with Sam, quietly talking with his brother as the sun slowly set outside the windows. Watching his brother fighting the pain, slowly losing that battle, was getting harder and harder for Dean to bear. He had started slipping his hand into his pocket periodically. He watched Sam's eyes follow the movement. Dean talked about his hunt and his evening the night before. Sam spoke less and less, his body slowly giving in to the pain.

The moon had just risen. Dean saw the crescent slide its blade over the horizon, he watched it absently wondering what was taking their father so long when Sam suddenly tensed. His body arched, he cried out in pain. Dean put his hands on Sam's shoulder's trying to calm him, wondering what was happening. "Sammy!" His brother suddenly relaxed, the tension dropping completely away. "SAMMY!"

Sam took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes opened, focusing on Dean. "No need to scream, Dean," he said with a smile.

"Sammy?"

"I think it's going to be ok, Dean," Sam said softly, his brother's eyes drifted closed. Dean watched, panic rising in his chest until he realized Sam had gone to sleep. His breathing even, deep and calm.

The relief nearly undid him. "Thank god," he said quietly. He walked into the bathroom and pulled the syringes out of his pocket and flushed them down the toilet. Then he went back and sat back by Sammy's bed, putting his hand gently on his brother's arm.

**My blood runs cold, my heart forgets to heave**

Present

It was quiet in the room. The day was fading outside the windows. The rain had returned, it was flowing out of the sky, a soft mist obscuring the view beyond the parking lot. Cars coming towards the hospital had their lights on, the brightness creating stripes in the falling rain.

"That promise has been haunting you," Galen said gently, breaking the spell, pulling Dean back to that room, back to the chair and the warm hand on his shoulder.

"What?"

"The promise to Sam, it has been there in the back of your head all this time, hasn't it? That's why you were so worried about his suffering, wasn't it?"

"I…I hadn't thought about that for a long time, I mean he asked me to promise last year, but that was something different, something I could stop." He was looking at the floor. _What is taking so long? How long has it been? The sun is going down. _

"I think this memory was behind the other, waiting for that to go before this made itself known. You thought you recognized the situation, but it wasn't that really at all, it was this, and you couldn't let yourself see it until now. But it was there, from the moment you realized Sam might be suffering. What will you do?"

"What do you mean?" Dean said looking at Galen.

"If Sam…"

"I don't know, I promised, you know," and the tears were suddenly there again. _Is that why I didn't fight Lacey harder? Why I let him go? Even though it killed me? Sammy dying is not an option, unless it is in my arms, at my hands? Oh, god, no. Sammy, no dying you hear me, dying is not an option._ He put his head in his hands.

"Dean?" Galen said. "I know, I heard it when you were telling me. Will you make that choice for yourself again?"

Dean sighed. _He has lost so much, so many people, but if Sam…Could I stay?_ "I don't know I was more dramatic when I was young." He tried to smile, it didn't work. _Because if anything it is worse now. Life without my brother…_

Dean looked up, the doctor had come into the room. He stood and walked over to her, trying to cover the distance, wanting to know just that much sooner. "Doctor?"

"We've moved your brother back up to ICU."

"Will he be alright?" Suddenly hope and relief were making his hands tingle.

"Mr. Young, somehow the sedation, the pain medication, we were giving your brother wasn't working correctly. His body suffered a great deal of trauma, we're not sure at this point."

"Not sure?" His hands were still tingling, but now it had nothing to do with relief. They had started to shake a little. "Is he in pain now?"

"That's just it, we don't know why the meds didn't work, so we don't know if they are working right now. He is still in bad shape, in addition to that, he suffered some very serious injuries during the odd incident in his room."

"Ok, will he live?" _Just tell me, straight out, will my brother live? Sam? Don't you listen if she says no, ok? No dying Sammy. You hear me? I got rid of that bitch so you would be ok, no dying._

"He is still critical," she said.

_And that is an answer? What the hell kind of answer is that? Yes? No? Maybe? _"Can I sit with him?"

"Yes, we moved him down the hall from the last room, didn't want to put him back in there."

_Damn straight. _"Thank you," Dean said. She smiled and left. "Galen?" He walked back to the bed.

"I need to sleep, Dean, go to your brother. I'll be up when they'll let me out of bed, ok?"

Dean squeezed the older man's arm and went out, up to Sam's room. He stopped outside the door. _This feels too familiar. We aren't doing this again, Sammy, you hear me? _He walked in, Sam was lying on the bed, plugged into myriad machines and tubes, beeping, hissing, sighing machines. The sound filled the room with its presence, alive, aware of Dean. He walked to the bed and put his hand gently on Sam's arm. He thought he felt tension there. _No, no, no. Sam, don't do this. _

"Hey, Sam, I got rid of Lacey, it'll be ok now." _You hear me, it's going to be ok. No promises needed, Sam, you are going to be fine. _"I fixed it Sam, you can get better now, it was all her hurting you, you are going to be fine." He looked at the tube in Sam's chest, the other helping him breathe, up at the monitor keeping track of Sam's heart. _Sam, no, no dying ok?_

He sat down beside the bed, sitting vigil, waiting for Sam to be ok, or waiting for that terrible moment of decision.

_Sam, I need you here, I can't do this without you. I fixed it, you need to be ok now._

He sighed. He slid his hand down his brother's arms and gently took Sam's hand in his. "Come on, Sam, I need you here, no leaving, no dying, you hear me?"

_Hear me Sammy? Please Sam, come back. I miss you. Sam?_

**My death and life…are both before me.**

Present

He remembered pain, agony, white-hot, tearing his will away, making him beg for death, trying to reach out to Dean and let him know. He remembered another voice, whispering at him. He remembered the machines holding him trapped in hell.

He remembered dying.

It felt familiar somehow, but this time Dean had been there. He had been terrified that Dean had been hurt, killed, by Susanna's sister, but then Dean was there, holding him, trying to let him breathe. Trying to keep him there, but he had to go, he couldn't live like that, and he knew Dean would understand. He knew Dean would remember. And he was terrified for Dean, the fear for his brother in those last moments had held him glued to the earth longer than his body wanted. He heard the whisper of his own voice, trying to put things like I love you and thank you into a single word, his brother's name. And Dean's response that he understood and felt that way, too.

The night had come for Sam, and still that terrible fear for Dean lingered through long hours of silent dark, occasionally sensing something beyond himself, always listening in that vast quiet. The hissing voice telling him he would be like that forever, screaming at him, then suddenly silent. The black void was hushed, muffled, sounds drifting in and out, maybe music—really bad eighties pop music—and someone singing off-key. Then more silence.

Awareness, just the very edge of awareness, he was drifting in a vast dark ocean. He knew there was pain somewhere in his body, but it was removed, held away behind a wall, only a tiny vine of actual pain climbing the wall to touch him. He could hear sounds in that ocean, lapping gently against him, the soft beeping of a machine, another sound, air being softly forced into his body, sustaining him until he lived or died.

"Did you hear about his brother?" A voiced said from beside him. _Dean? What about Dean?_

"I heard, that was just awful." _Dean, what? Dean? You didn't…? Oh, no, no. Please._

The voices moved away out of his hearing, they didn't say anymore and Sam lay there, terrified for his brother. _What happened? Did he…No, he wouldn't. Maybe he went to hunt her and got hurt? Could he be dead? No, Dean, no. _He thought he heard the heart monitor beeping a little more urgently. He felt pain, actual pain blossoming at the thought of something happening to Dean that he couldn't prevent. His muscles stiffened a tiny bit.

A hand touched his arm, warm, callused, he recognized that touch, through the drugs, through the darkness holding him immobile. _Dean, you're ok. Thank god, you're ok. _

"Hey, Sam," Dean said, Sam could hear fear, grief and exhaustion there. "I got rid of Lacey, it'll be ok now." _You're ok, Dean. That's what matters, I was afraid. _"I fixed it Sam, you can get better now, it was all her hurting you, you are going to be fine."

_You mean I don't have to live like that? I can get better? She was the one? Thank you, Dean. No matter what happens to me now, living or dying, you kept your promise._

He felt his brother's hand slide down his arm, stopping on his hand, the pressure was gentle, life-giving. _Funny I can feel that and nothing else. He must be pretty worried to hold my hand like that. _. "Come on, Sam, I need you here, no leaving, no dying, you hear me?" Dean said, and Sam heard tears in his brother's voice.

_I'm trying, Dean. I'm trying._

_**To Be Continued**_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: I would like to thank Phx once again for setting me out on this journey. I would like to thank Heather03nmg for medical answers to pesky annoying questions. And a huge thanks to beta Abni for patience, care with this and, well, everything. Mistakes are all mine, though. All chapter heading quotes and past/ present titles came from Addison's "Cato."_

**With What Life Remains**

Chapter Ten

_Do not strike him dead with a denial,_

_But hold him up in life, and cheer his soul_

_With the faint glimmering of a doubtful hope:_

_Perhaps, when we have pass'd these gloomy hours,_

_And weather'd out the storm that beats upon us_

_-Joseph Addison_

The sun was lighting the windows. The warmth came creeping through a little, touching the man sleeping quietly in a chair, casting a gentle glow on the other who lay still as a corpse on the bed next to him. The building was quiet, the early morning hush, the hours just past dawn filling the hallways with a soft whisper a sigh of relief that the dark time of death had moved on again and would not come for many hours. Death had come and gone in those graveyard hours and had slipped silently by that room, leaving life rather than taking it.

Dean thought he could smell coffee and could a hear quiet conversation. The deep timber of one voice reminded him of his father. _I must have crashed in a chair, dad will be pissed. _As more awareness crept into his sleep-starved brain, memories began filtering in. _Sam! _His eyes snapped open and he looked over at the unmoving form of his brother, still held suspended between life and death by the softly sighing and beeping machines. He sat up and glanced around. Galen was standing at the door speaking with a nurse in red scrubs. Dean noticed the curve of her body under the nearly formless clothes, but that was all.

He had been sitting vigil for nearly two days since he had killed the spirit of Lacey, banishing her so she could no longer torture Sam. _I thought that would solve it, but he is still here. I don't know if there has been any change. I still don't really know if he'll live or die. Uh? Sam? No dying. You hear me? We aren't having this conversation again. No dying._

He squeezed Sam's hand. "Morning Sammy," he said, talking to his brother as if he were awake. "I am just going to get a quick cup of coffee, ok? Galen is at the door and I won't be gone long." He patted Sam's hand again. He had held it almost steadily for thirty six hours. When Galen had come up to the room, he had noticed Dean quickly moving his hand away from his brother and smiled, explaining that he understood and that touch could be vital in pulling someone back to the world. "At least," he had added sadly. "That is what many cultures believe. Touch can save a life." So Dean hadn't let go since. _I need it too, face it, it's the only thing that is holding me together now, that his hand is warm. That he is still there. _

He got up and walked over to Galen. The older man smiled at Dean and drew him into the hallway. "I have a coffee here for you," he said picking one up from the chair by the door. "I didn't want to wake you."

"It's ok," Dean said, taking a sip of the still-hot coffee. "Thanks. What were you talking to her about?"

"Sam," Galen said with a smile. "She said they think they might be able to start weaning him off the respirator today, later in the day."

The coffee was shaking in his hand, "What?"

Galen put a gentle hand on his shoulder to steady him. "Yes, it's true, Dean. They will be in to talk to you later, but she is very sweet to your kind old uncle," he said with a wink.

"You should play that card more often, get you some hot girls, I bet," Dean said, smiling at the professor. _Sam? I think he just told me you might just make it. You hear me Sam?_

"I might need a few pointers, I'm a little rusty in that game," Galen said, continuing in the light tone, giving Dean some time to deal with the news.

"Sure, as long as I can play the 'he's my sweet old uncle card' to manage a double date," he said laughing, the sound more relief than mirth. _Sam, maybe just a little longer and we can get out of here. Then a few days to get you back on your feet. That's all Sammy, you are going to be fine. You hear me Sam? No dying._

"Sounds like fun, we'll bring Sam too, a little celebration when he is up and around."

"Yeah, get some dinner and hang out picking up girls, maybe play some darts, Sam can sit in the corner and look shy and get more than you and me combined," and his voice broke. He swallowed hard. "Excuse me for a minute, ok?"

He walked back into Sam's room and put his hand down on his brother's arm. "Sam? I'm back. The nurse just told Galen they might start taking you off the respirator today. How does that sound? Breathing on your own. Sounds good to me," he dropped down in the chair. _I need to get control or I am going to lose it completely. I don't really know if it is good news, it sounds good, not needing a machine, but don't dying patients sometimes not need a machine? Sam? You need to come through this little brother, I don't have a lot of time left and I would, selfishly, like to spend it with you. Awake and talking Sammy, not like this. I'll stay here of course, I would just rather have my pain in the ass little brother up and around and giving me a hard time. _

Galen walked into the room and sat down in the chair next to Dean. The older man spent a large portion of the day sitting with Dean, listening as he spoke to Sam, or talking to Dean about supernatural rituals he had witnessed around the world. He had a deep understanding of many rituals and Dean stored away as much information as his befuddled mind could handle. _Sam would enjoy this, he gets off on the geeky stuff. _ Throughout the day the professor would leave and come back with coffee or something for Dean to eat. Coming and going quietly, offering support that Dean knew he needed. _I might have gone nuts if he hadn't been here. I miss dad so much sometimes, and Galen…I miss Sam too. Sam? No dying, hear me?_

"Did I tell you I knew a bruja?" Galen said softly. He never explained what things were, just took it for granted that Dean would understand.

"Really?" Dean said, looking at him. "A little risky, don't you think?"

"Well," and the older man laughed. "I saved her from getting burnt alive, so I think she was a little grateful."

"I guess, I don't know though, sometimes that kind of thing can backfire."

"It hasn't yet, unless…" His eyes darkened briefly, Dean thought of Galen's wife, of Lacey and Susanna, now all gone from him. "No, I'm sure that has nothing to do with it. She actually taught me a lot about what she did. I have it all somewhere, maybe you and Sam would like a copy?"

Dean smiled at him, "I'm sure Sam would like that, maybe make good reading while he gets better, something to keep his mind off of a bad hotel room."

"Dean…"and Galen paused for a minute, running his hand through his hair. "You and your brother, I hope you will consider my home…I hate the idea of the two of you….So…"

"Thank you," Dean said. The offer of Galen's home, of comfort away from a sterile motel room meant more that he could express, or even really admit to himself. "That'll be great and Sammy can spend his time looking through your library."

Galen smiled at him and clapped him gently on the shoulder. "I don't know about you, but I could use something to eat, I'll be back."

Dean watched him go, "So we solved the someplace to stay question, Sam. I think that will be better for you that a hotel room. And after? I was thinking we should go to the beach, what do you think? It's been years since we visited the Pacific together. I know you probably went in college, but it's not the same without you Sammy." _Hear me? Not the same without you. _"Remember the first time? You were what, eight or nine I think and we went to Long Beach in Washington State? And we got those kites and spent the day flying kites? And then dad let us rent horses?"

Dean laughed as the memories of that bright sunlit day came to mind. "And you kept repeating that poem about pelicans and how their beaks hold more than their bellies can every time we saw one? Until dad finally threatened you with no ice cream to make you shut up? And you kept at it and dad just laughed and kept threatening you and then we all went to that ice cream parlor that had the homemade waffle cones? I wonder if it is still there, cause maybe we'll go there, Sammy. I would like to see it again." _With you, Sam. No dying hear me?_

He sighed and sifted his hand down to his brother's. "And after that, I don't know, where do you think we should go? I'll let you pick the next place." _Of course there won't be time, there are demons to hunt and things to kill and people to save and a clock ticking on my life, but Sam, let's make a little time. _

Galen returned with a bagel sandwich for Dean and they sat chatting quietly, with Dean occasionally turning to talk with Sam about something. Around noon a doctor came in to confirm what the nurse had told Galen, that they would see if Sam were ready to begin to come off the respirator. Off and on for the rest of the afternoon Dean and Galen would leave so they could perform whatever mysterious tests would confirm that Sam was ready.

Finally they came and told him Sam was ready. Dean asked about the procedure, somehow even though he had witnessed it once or twice before he always forgot. _Nice that I have blocked that out at least. Probably saves a few nightmares. _He listened as the doctor explained it to him, watching the whole time as they got Sam ready. His heart stopped when he saw them carefully strapping Sam down with the restraints.

"Do you have to do that?" he asked, horrified.

"As I explained, he needs to be awake, and we can't have him trying to pull that tube out," the doctor said with a frown.

"I'll be here with him, I'll stop him," he said, beginning to panic. Galen sensed his sudden tension and came to stand beside him.

"I'm sorry, but that won't do, really. We do know what we're doing, we do this a lot," she said with quiet sympathy.

"Oh, god," Dean said and looked away. _He's going to panic, I don't know what to do. _His hands were starting to shake again.

"We'll make it as easy as possible," the doctor said. "He should start coming around a little fairly soon." She smiled at them and left.

Dean was staring at the bed, trying to stop the panic. _How can I get him through this? _"Sam? Everything is ok, time to come back, little brother," he said, trying to keep the emotions from overwhelming him. "I'm right here, everything is ok," he said keeping his voice soothing, trying to calm his own sense of panic. He sat in the chair by his brother.

_No dying Sam. Time to come back._

**Whence this secret dread, and inward horror**

**Present**

The darkness was full of sound. Some loud, some whispering soft, but always there seemed to be sound. Mostly mechanical sounds in the background, he could hear them at the very edge of an unstable awareness. He slid in and out of the black ocean, diving deep sometimes to a hush, rising to the surface at other times, hearing the sounds. There was pain too, sometimes a mere background hum, nearly silent with all the other sounds, other times it was loud, demanding attention.

In those moments he was terrified, the pain reaching him, moving him into its path and then pulling him along with it. Torture. He couldn't scream, he couldn't cry, just endure, and then it would fade away again, leaving him breathless, afraid on that vast ocean of silence.

_Am I dying? I don't know anymore. Sometimes I think I've already died and this is the grave. Silent, dark, painful. Is that death? I don't remember, I don't think it was this way before. Dean? Are you there? Susanna died, I know that, and Dean said he sent her sister away. Who else will die because of me? Other than Dean. Will I be like this for his whole year? How long has it been? How much time has he wasted, how much time have I wasted? Dean? I'm sorry._

"Hey, Sam," his brother's voice drifted across the void to him. "Sorry, just went to get a little coffee. I hope you don't mind." _No, Dean, I just wondered where you were. _"There's pretty good coffee in the cafeteria here, not like that sludge you make sometimes, not like the mud they have in the emergency room." Dean stopped and cleared his throat. "Remember the coffee at that tiny little market in Enterprise, Oregon? They roasted it there?"_Yeah, I remember, you talked me into skipping the latte. _Dean put his hand over Sam's. The warmth of his brother's hand reached into that dark ocean and held him anchored, kept him from drifting away. _Thank you Dean, I'm trying to come back. _The dark rose up in a wave and pulled him into the deep again.

He was rising to the surface again. He could her sounds, a soft conversation. Dean and another voice, Sam thought he recognized it. Susanna's professor, Galen. _He and Dean got along well, I remember Dean looked forward to playing darts with him every night. How long ago was that? How much time have I wasted? _ They were talking about the chupacabra. Dean was debating what it was. Galen seemed well versed in the lore.

"No, I think you're wrong on that, legend states that in sixteen, uh, sixteen, I can't remember," Dean said with a frustrated sigh. "Sam, I need you here to help with this, you would know right off the top of your head wouldn't you?" _I think it was 1692, depending on what you are talking about, Dean. _"He has to wake up, Galen, he has to." Sam could hear the grief in his brother's voice.

_I'm trying Dean, I think I am. I have to tell you though, I am frightened. What if it's like before? That pain? I can't stand that Dean. Will it be like that? Or what if I can't get better? What if I wake up, but am trapped here forever? And then you'll be gone and I will have wasted all that time. If waking up means that, I'd rather just not. Am I wrong to think that? Probably, I can't leave you Dean, not if there's a chance to save your life. With what life I have left, Dean, I will try and save you. I am afraid, though, I dread waking up, what if it is like before, just pain and I can't move? I don't think I can stand that, trapped in pain and not able to move. _That thought was the last as he drifted into deep water again.

Dean's hand was on his arm. "So we solved the someplace to stay question, Sam," Dean was speaking to him again. _Really Dean? Where? _"I think that will be better for you that a hotel room. And after? I was thinking we should go to the beach, what do you think? It's been years since we visited the Pacific together. I know you probably went in college, but it's not the same without you Sammy." _It wasn't the same without you, Dean. Jess and I went, but I still wished you could have been there, even then, even when we weren't speaking. Oh, god Dean, I wasted years while I was there. _

"Remember the first time? You were what, eight or nine I think and we went to Long Beach in Washington State? And we got those kites and spent the day flying kites? And then dad let us rent horses?" Sam heard Dean laugh. It was a sound with real happiness in it._ I remember Dean. And you nearly fell off the horse and we went to that bakery, dad gave us money and let us go by ourselves and we got those donuts. I remember. _

"And you kept repeating that poem about pelicans and how their beaks hold more than their bellies can every time we saw one? Until dad finally threatened you with no ice cream to make you shut up? And you kept at it and dad just laughed and kept threatening you and then we all went to that ice cream parlor that had the homemade waffle cones? I wonder if it is still there, cause maybe we'll go there, Sammy. I would like to see it again." _Really? I would love to go back. I have always wanted to, but I didn't want to ruin the memory, either. But now I think we should go, Dean. _

His brother's hand closed over his. "And after that, I don't know, where do you think we should go? I'll let you pick the next place."_I don't know. There are demons to hunt, people need saving, you will run out of time very soon, Dean. But yes, let's please make time._ The darkness was closing in on him again. _I wonder if I'm sleeping when this happens? _He drifted away.

The pressure on his hand, warm, sustaining, was there. He was a little more aware this time. Actual awareness was creeping up on him, slowly pushing him up and out into the world again. There was pain, he could feel actual pain this time. _What's going on? No, I can't stand this again. Please no. _He tried to fight his way back to the dark, and still he was pushed out.

"Sam? Everything is ok, time to come back, little brother," Dean said, Sam could hear the edge of panic in his brother's voice. "I'm right here, everything is ok," Dean was trying to sound calm, soothing, Sam could hear his fear.

More awareness, pain began pulsing through his body, there was something in his throat, choking him. He tried to fight his way into the dark again. He was pushed even farther away, towards the pain, out towards awareness. His body bucked as he tried to fight what was happening._No, no, please no. _He could now sense something in his wrists holding him trapped, immobile. A prisoner strapped to a bed of nails. He fought against them, there was a terrible pain in his side.

"No, no Sammy," Dean said. Sam felt his brother's hand on his head, gently stroking his forehead. "It's ok this is supposed to be happening, Sam. It's ok. It's supposed to be happening."

_What? It's supposed to be happening? Dean? Are you sure? I'm frightened, I'm in pain._

"Sammy? It's ok, trust me." _Of course I trust you, Dean. _"Can you open your eyes?"

Sam tried, they felt glued closed, he tried again and light broke in, bright, nearly blinding. He closed his eyes then tried one more time. He got them open and blinked. His brother's face came into focus.

"Hey, Sam," Dean said looking at him, a small smile on his face. Sam saw tears sparkle in his brother's eyes. "Welcome back."

**With all the strength…fraternal love and friendship can inspire**.

**Present**

Dean tried to keep his voice calm, collected. _Sam will hear the worry there, though, I bet, the panic. _He was holding on to his brother's hand waiting for him to wake up. He could feel Sam's muscles beginning to tense, beginning to fight as he became more aware. Sam's body contracted and his hands pulled against the restraints. Dean quickly put his hand on his brother's head, gently stroking his forehead with his thumb trying to calm him.

"No, no Sammy," Dean said. "It's ok, this is supposed to be happening, Sam. It's ok. It's supposed to be happening." _Come on, Sam, you can make it, come on, please Sammy come back. I need you here. _"Sammy? It's ok, trust me," he said as soothingly as he could manage. _I'm right here, it's ok. _"Can you open your eyes?" _Come on, Sam, prove them wrong. _

His brother's eyelids seemed to move a fraction. Dean held his breath. They moved a little more and he felt tears welling in his own eyes._Sam, please, please come back. _Sam's eyes opened, closed and opened again. He looked blearily at Dean, his eyes were full of fear, pain. Dean put his other hand over Sam's, he felt the tears at the edge of his eyes threatening to spill over.

"Hey, Sam," Dean said, smiling at his brother, letting out the breath he had been holding. "Welcome back." _Hey little brother, I think you're going to make it. _"It's ok, Sam, I'm here," he said, still trying to remove the fear from his brother's eyes. "I know it hurts, I know it's hard, but in a few hours it will be out, ok?" Sam blinked and pulled against the restraints. Dean put a gentle hand on his wrist, stilling the movement. "Not long, I promise." A tear slid out of Sam's eye and trickled down his cheek, Dean brushed it away and smiled. "You're going to be ok, Sam."

Sam was looking at him, Dean saw a little hope beginning to flare in his brother's eyes. _You hear me, Sam? You're going to be ok. You are walking out of here in a little bit and we are going to the ocean. Got it? _Dean brushed another tear away. "Sammy? What is it? Are you in pain? Should I call the nurse?" He punched the nurse call button, his heart fluttering against his chest, panic appearing again, pushing the relief away. _No, it's going to be ok now. _

"Yes?" A pretty dark-haired nurse said as she came in the room, she smiled at Galen and then turned her smile on Dean. _Galen, you sly old dog. _

"My brother, I think there's something wrong, he's crying," Dean said and he could hear the panic in his voice. He watched as the nurse did mysterious nurse things, nodding to herself as she checked Sam. "Is he ok?"

"I'll speak with the doctor, he's doing just fine," she smiled at him and gave Galen's arm a little squeeze as she left.

Dean smiled at Sam, "I'm losing my touch, Sam," he tried to laugh a little. It didn't work. _Sam, come on you need to be ok now. _

The nurse reappeared with the doctor, they asked if Dean and Galen could leave for a moment. Dean didn't want to go, Galen pulled him gently from the room. "He's going to be fine, Dean. They're just checking to make sure everything is on schedule, don't worry, he's going to be fine."

Dean looked at Galen, the words trickling in like Sam's tears. He swallowed, trying to get a hold of his emotions, trying to force them down, he discovered they wouldn't go. There was a raw aching wound in his chest. He turned from Galen without a word and stumbled down the hall, pulling the door to the small chapel open without even realizing he was there.

He almost collapsed on the floor and finally let it out, the fear for his brother, the terror of Sam dying in his arms again, the long wait, and Sam waking, that first look—trust, fear, pain. It boiled out of him, he wrapped his arms around his knees and put his head down and gave way, the tears, the sobs coming out of him, unstoppable. The ache in his chest eased a little, the tears taking it out of him, drop by drop, until there was no more. He sat with his head down for another minute, then looked up and around the dark chapel. The candle was still burning on the altar and the sweet smell of incense permeated the walls. He sighed and pushed himself up, wiping the tears from his face. _I don't want to worry Sam._

He opened the door and walked back to Sam's room, they were done doing whatever they had been doing. He went in, Sam's eyes were closed. Dean put his hand on Sam's arm, his brother's eyes drifted open. "Hey, Sammy, sorry about that I had to get coffee." Sam looked at him, his eyes rolled a tiny bit. "Yeah, forgot the cup, huh? Ok, I just needed a minute," he smiled a Sam. "Damn it's good to see you, Sam." Dean frowned as another tear found its way down Sam's cheek. "It's ok, it's going to be ok."

He sat down in the chair by the bed. "Galen must have actually gone for coffee or food, he'll be back in a bit. I won't leave again, I'll be right here." He patted his brother's arm. "It won't be long now, Sam, you'll be out of here before you know it." He was distressed when another tear ran down Sam's cheek. "Hey, Sammy, it's ok." _What is it Sam? How can I help?_

He leaned back, keeping his hand on Sam's arm. "It's going to be ok." He started talking, about nothing, really. Just talking. Reveling in the fact that Sam's eyes were open most of the time and once or twice his brother rolled his eyes in that little look of disgust he reserved for Dean. Galen brought food, they sat and talked a little about his work, Dean carefully including Sam. Occasionally Dean would see the tears start in Sam, it worried him. He was panicked his brother was in pain, panicked that something was wrong, something they couldn't fix.

Twelve long hours later they told Dean it was time for Sam to come off the respirator. Dean carefully undid one restraint and took Sam's hand firmly in his. "Only a few seconds more, Sam." Sam was tearing up again. Dean looked away for the actual procedure. _Sorry, Sammy, just can't watch that. _When he turned around Sam had an oxygen mask over his face. "Hey, see, better, right? What? No, Sam, relax it's ok. Don't try and talk yet." The tears had started again, and his brother seemed distressed. Sam was trying to say something. Dean pulled the mask away for a moment so he could hear.

"How long?" Sam rasped out.

"What?" Dean said, not really understanding.

"How long? Dean?" Sam's eyes were desperate, afraid.

Dean looked down at his brother, comprehension hit him hard, "Oh, god, Sammy, not long, not long at all, a week."

Sam's eyes closed, Dean felt his brother relax a little. "I thought…"

"No, Sam, there's still time," Dean felt answering tears in his own eyes. "There's still time left."

They kept Sam on the oxygen mask another twenty four hours, Dean stayed with him, only venturing out to get coffee or a quick bite to eat. Sam didn't try and talk much, the pain from the chest wound and the soreness from the long hours on the respirator taking their toll. Dean chatted, keeping the emotions threatening to overwhelm him, even now, under tight lock and key. _Sam doesn't need me losing it, it won't help him._

When Dean wandered in with his morning coffee the next day Sam was off the mask, just a thin tube running under his nose. Dean grinned. "Hey, Sammy, looking good."

"Thanks," Sam said quietly, his voice still raspy.

Dean peeked into the cup beside the bed. "Ice, you want a little?" Sam nodded and Dean spooned a little ice into his brother's mouth. "Better?"

"Yeah, thanks," he said again. "Dean…"

"What?" Dean asked looking at his brother. _He needs something, what? They said he was going to be ok, said we could be back on the road sometime relatively soon, but what?_

"I'm sorry."

"What?"_What the hell for, Sam?_

"All this time, you had to be here, sorry. And for before, when Lacey was…"

"No, Sam, nothing to be sorry for. You're back and going to be ok. I'm the one who's sorry. I was…I…it took me too long to figure out what that bitch was doing to you. God, I'm so sorry Sammy." _Oh, no, no tears. You just stay in my head, you hear me?_

"You saved me, and kept the forever promise, too," Sam said with a gentle smile.

"Sammy,"_I said stay in my head. And you, stupid throat lump? Go away._

"I thought I was dead, Dean. I think I wanted to be dead," he paused. "I was dead for a minute, wasn't I?" He looked at Dean with questioning compassionate eyes.

"Yeah, and that's it, Sammy," Dean said. His voice sounded a little weird to him. He sat down on the very edge of Sam's bad. _I said go away. Stupid lump and now an ache in my chest. Stop and you tears? Knock it off._

"What's it?" Sam said softly.

"You've used up your quota, you don't get to die on me ever again, you're just going to have to live forever now. No dying, Sam, you hear me?" His voice broke and at the same time the tears started. Sam reached a hand towards him and before Dean realized what he had done he had leaned forward, reaching for Sam and had his arms around his brother. Sam's arms went around him. He rested his head against his brother, Sam's head was resting against his. "I might need a forever promise on that, Sammy."

"I need one from you too, Dean," Sam said, so quietly Dean was sure he wasn't meant to hear it. Sam tightened his arms a tiny bit. "I'll do my best Dean, forever promise on that."

"Thanks, Sammy, thank you."

**Epilogue**

Dean bounded up the stairs at Galen's, the Impala had a full tank of gas and they were planning on leaving shortly. Bobby had called, but Dean told him they needed another week for Sam to get all the way on his feet again. _Which is true, but we are also going to the beach. I don't care if the world explodes between now and then, we have talked about it so much during his recovery, I'm not going to skip this trip. _

Galen and Sam were chatting in the living room, Sam in the large chair that had become his through his recovery. He still had a blanket over him. _He isn't all the way well yet, but they said it was ok to travel, as long as I kept an eye on him. _

"All topped off?" Galen said with a smile.

"Yeah, all ready to go, we'll be there soon," Dean said smiling at Sam and Galen. "You ready?"

"Sure, Dean," Sam said throwing off the blanket and holding his hand up so Dean could pull him to his feet. "Everything packed?"

Dean laughed and rolled his eyes, "Everything, including your new library of books. Weigh a ton, Sammy."

Sam laughed and turned to Galen, "Thanks, for everything." The older man pulled Sam into a tight hug. Sam smiled again and walked slowly, under the watchful eyes of his brother, out the front door.

Dean turned to Galen. "For everything doesn't begin to cover it, Galen," he said. _How can I say thank you? For your house? Your support? It means more than I can actually say. I miss dad so much, but you helped that too. _

"I hope you will consider my home your home from now on Dean. There is always a place for you here, always." Galen pulled Dean against him, Dean returned the embrace. It felt good, fatherly.

"I'll call you from the beach," Dean said, pulling away and walking with him to the front door. "Let you know we're safe."

"Thank you, Dean," the older man had tears in his eyes. "I'll miss you two, take care of each other."

Dean laughed gently, "Always Galen, Always." He walked down the stairs, pausing to wave before he dropped into the driver's seat. He looked over at Sam. "Ready, Sammy?"

Sam grinned, anticipation lighting his face. "Yeah, Dean, let's go."

They took the right into Long Beach several hours later. The town looked remarkably unchanged. There were several new hotels farther up the peninsula, but the town itself looked the same. Sam laughed and pointed out the bakery and the ice cream shop, both still there. Dean laughed with him and turned the car out towards the beach. He pulled into a parking place and helped Sam out of the car.

They walked together out onto the sandy beach, their ears filled with the pounding of the waves, stretching out before them in long lines almost as far as they could see. The water was gray, the white crests of the waves bright. Gulls were wheeling overhead. Tiny birds raced in and out with the waves, the soft peeping of their voices barely noticeable over the sound of the waves. Sam pointed to a far off spout in the water, possibly a whale. A pelican swooped by.

"Look Dean," he said. Dean could hear a wide smile in his voice. "A pelican, their beaks can hold more than their bellies can you know."

Dean laughed and blinked away the tears. "I hear that more than once more, Sammy, and no ice cream for you."

"Like that threat will work," Sam said laughing.

"Never did before."

"I'm glad we came, Dean."

"I'm glad you could be here with me, Sam." Dean stepped closer to Sam, making contact, their shoulders touching. Sam sighed and leaned into the contact. They stood and watched the birds and the ocean a long time before turning back to the car.

_**The End**_


End file.
